


The Pony Who Lived Upstairs

by Ringcaat



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Animals, AntiMatter - Freeform, Canada, Circuit burning, Cooking, Crystal Empire, Dinner Party, Drama, Earth, Engraving, Existentialism, F/M, Football, Friendship, Horses, Human in Equestria, Human/Pony relationship, International affairs, Kumquats - Freeform, Love Magic, Magnets, Manhattan, Mr. Rogers - Freeform, My Little Pony - Generation 1, New Jersey, Newark, Nightclub, Original Songs, Outlet mall, Peaches - Freeform, Philosophy, Politics, Pony on Earth, Quiet game, Racism, Romance, Royal Mage, Show exists in story, Slice of Life, Songs, Tourism, Unicorns, United Nations, United States, Wal-Mart, World Cup, animal rights, coffeeshop, paddleboats, ponies, ranch, rapping, reality television, television show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 15:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 177,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringcaat/pseuds/Ringcaat
Summary: What would you do if a pony moved into the apartment upstairs? Would you make an effort to meet her? What would you talk about? And what kind of pony leaves Equestria for Earth in the first place?This is a series of slice-of-life episodes about a young man who meets a pony in New Jersey. Equestria has made contact with Earth; creations and creators have been sorting things out for a couple of years, and a smattering of ponies are gradually starting to move to Earth. Told though human eyes, here's the story of one of them.





	1. The Pony Upstairs

**Author's Note:**

> This story was posted originally on fimfiction and fanfiction.net from 2014 to 2016. I wrote it because I hadn't found any stories about ordinary ponies migrating to Earth, and the potential social, political and philosophical impact it might cause. There are, it turns out, other stories about ponies coming to Earth, but people tell me that mine is the only one in which the TV show actually exists, which adds a number of interesting wrinkles. I mainly just wanted to explore the dynamic that might arise between two different but eerily similar species, one of which can be seen as the other's creator.

FOUR YEARS in Elizabeth, New Jersey, three of them in the same building, and I never made an effort to meet my neighbors, except a few people on my floor, and only then because we saw each other in the hall. Sometimes I feel guilty. Lots of Latinos, at least three black families, a guy from Poland... I could have gone and introduced myself to any of them, and who knows what I would have learned? Sometimes I'd wonder if I was bigoted, but usually I'd tell myself, no. I'm just shy.

Yet when she moved in—surprise! I went out of my way to meet her. What does that say about me? That I'll seek out and appreciate diversity, but only if it's a kind that appeals to my senses? Only if it's beautiful? I felt guilty about it, but there was no question—I just had to meet the pony who lived upstairs.

Do people ever really make cakes and cookies for their new neighbors, like you see on TV? All I know is, no one's ever done it for me. We got a flan once in the week before Christmas back when I was engaged in Hoboken, but we'd been there almost a year and the neighbor who brought it already knew us. So I figured, well, maybe it's one of those things people don't really do, but I've got to do it. I went online, found a recipe for pineapple upside-down cake, and tried my best. The cake came out too thick, so I ate it myself, went back to the store and made another. It ate up pretty much my whole Sunday, but really, you can't complain when you're learning.

I wrapped it in foil, went up to room 412, and clapped the knocker. _Clop, clo-clop, clop!_

I heard a not too different sound from inside. There was a pause before the voice, tempered and full, but anxious: "Who's there?"

Though I'd expected to be talking face to face, I did my best through the door. "Hi! I'm your neighbor down in 308. I thought you might like this cake, so..."

"Ah—one moment," said the voice. There was more clopping near the door, and it wasn't a knocker. A lock turned, and the door opened to reveal... more or less what I'd expected. I mean, I hadn't known what color she'd be. Not that it really mattered, but I guess I'd subconsciously imagined her as light green, like Lyra. The one the fans liked saying was into humans. I'd known she was a unicorn, so I guess I'd just filled in the blanks. But she was peach-colored, with a medium brown mane, and less exuberant than I'd imagined. I couldn't see her cutie mark clearly, but it looked like a spark between two poles. And there I was... in front of a pony. A generation four, Friendship is Magic pony. And what I'd planned to say went out of my head.

"You brought me a cake?" she asked, her eyes cautious.

"I mean, it's upside-down," I downplayed. "But yes. I brought you a cake." When I displayed it, her nostrils flared.

"Pineapple?" She seemed delighted by the idea.

"Yep, pineapple upside-down cake. I figured, as a new neighbor, you could use a pick-me-up." That was something I'd prepared, slipping out now.

"I didn't know you guys had pineapple cake here. I thought it was all vanillas and chocolates!"

Not knowing quite what to say to that, I shrugged. "I guess you're not from around here, then?"

She snorted and lifted a front hoof to her chest. "What do _you_ think?"

I smiled. "New to Earth?"

"Yeah. Just been a week." I felt something tugging at my hands and inhaled sharply, but it was just her magic, blue and electric, lifting the cake and its foil wrapper away from me. I watched as she set it on the counter in her ordinary-looking apartment.

"So how're you settling in?" It could easily have been the wrong question. But it seemed more innocuous than asking why she'd come to town, and I didn't want to just walk away and trust to seeing her in the halls. I wanted to forge something.

Uneasily, the unicorn sat down on her floor. "It's been slow. And tough." She must have been thinking along the same lines as me, because she smiled and asked, "So what's your name?"

"Ronald Pfeffer," I answered.

"Peach Spark," she said, tapping her chest.

I smiled back. "What's a Peach Spark?"

Her smile turned uncertain. "That's my name."

"I know. Still! What's a Peach Spark?"

Her skeptical eyes met my mirthful ones for a moment. "Beats me," she admitted. "It's just a couple of nice words that go together."

"So, a typical pony name."

She was eying me warily. "You could say that. What does Ronald Pfeffer mean?"

"Um. Well, Ronald means, like, counselor, and 'pfeffer' is German for 'pepper'. But I mean, it's not all one..."

"So you're Counselor Pepper."

"Uhh..."

"Only in code, so no one can understand it."

I stood there dumbly. "All right, all right," I laughed. "So my name's no better." I fell silent, wanting to ask whether she at least had some sense of what her name _might_ mean, but not knowing whether it would be out of line. This was about where I had to either keep the conversation going or just welcome her to the building and excuse myself. She knew it too, but she didn't say anything either for a while. It was like she didn't want to turn me away.

"You know, it's not that easy making friends here," she said.

I frowned, sticking my thumbs in my pockets. "You don't say."

"Is there some trick I've been missing?"

I shook my head. "Probably," I eventually admitted. "But I don't know it either."

She laughed a little. "You can dress it up, but back home, it's pretty much as simple as walking up to somep—someone and saying, 'Hi, my name's whatever—would you like to be friends?' And nine times out of ten, you've got a new friend."

"Reminds me of grade school," I told her.

She looked miffed at that. "Hmph. Well, we are for five-to-ten-year-olds, right?"

I didn't even grasp what she was saying at first.

“The show? That we're from? It's for grade schoolers, isn't it?”

“Oh. Um... yeah, I guess.”

There was a lot of talk, even then, about whether we'd created the world of Friendship is Magic or just tapped into it somehow. Or whether there was even a difference. Really, the debate never stopped, but it had sort of become polite to talk about it in the latter way: We didn't create you, we just found you. And how lucky we are! Complicating the issue is that it was Equestrian magic, not Earth technology, that opened the paths between our worlds. So why our world, and not some other? Maybe because we're the ones who created them in the first place?

The metaphysics was beyond me—I just didn't want to tread on anyone's toes. This pony, though, Peach Spark, had a different attitude. “So, why is it a surprise if our society reminds you of your schools, then? You wrote us that way.”

I stood there with my hand at my chest and my mouth open as if to say, _I_ didn't write you.

“Sorry. Sorry.” The pony shook her head. “I guess what I'm trying to say is, I could use a friend pretty bad. You in?”

There was nothing to think about. I'd spent the day baking a cake for her, hadn't I? “Yeah—absolutely I'll be your friend.”

Her smile was tempered. “Some of the humans I've met said we'd be friends, but I haven't heard from them. I feel like they weren't being honest.”

I smiled nervously. “Yeah. That happens.”

She scowled. “I know it happens. It happens in Equestria, too. But not this much.”

“Sorry. All I can say is, yeah. I'm in.”

Finally, the pony's smile turned genuine, if weary. “You wanna come in?” I was still standing in the doorway.

“Sure.” As I slipped in, I tried to think of the last time I'd been in a girl's apartment. Had it happened since Cindy? I didn't think so, but then again, did this really count?

It was a studio. There was a big futon mattress strewn with sheets, and cushions sitting here and there. A white padded chair that'd probably been part of a loveseat set. A rack of shelves filled with tools and a few books, and a little table covered in papers. Not much else that wasn't built in. I sat on the half-loveseat and she sat on a cushion facing me. And sighed.

“Sounds like it hasn't been easy, huh?” I asked.

“I didn't think it'd be easy,” she said.

I had to ask. “So, why'd you leave? And why New Jersey?”

She'd just sat down, but she got up again. “There's work here. What do you say we cut that cake you brought?”

“I guess I wouldn't mind trying it.”

She produced an actual cake knife from a kitchen drawer. I noticed that she used magic to open the drawer and unwrap the foil, but when it came to cutting the cake, she held the knife in her mouth, making it difficult for her to talk. On purpose?

“That's actually my second one,” I remarked. “The first one was okay, but I think I overdid the baking powder or something.”

She made a noise like “Really?” Soon enough, the cake was in pieces and we each had a slice before us, which she garnished with sprigs of fresh mint.

“It's not bad,” she said, digging in.

“Thanks. So how do you like human food, so far?”

She looked up, crumbs on her muzzle. “Is there such a thing? Isn't it different depending what country you're in?”

I shrugged. “Well, sure, but still.”

She finished a mouthful. “You guys eat about the same we do. Not really surprising. I guess you don't eat grass, though, huh?”

“Not really.”

“Or flowers?”

I shook my head. “I mean, some of the grains we eat are technically grass, I think. And I know some people eat flowers...”

“But not usually?”

“Nope.”

She dug in again. “Not looking forward to winter, then.”

I watched her eat—she didn't seem to mind. Even though she had magic, she didn't bother with a fork—she just used her teeth, keeping her head over the plate.

“You said there was work here?”

“Yep.” She licked her lips clean. “Good work for a unicorn who can solder. I'm with ThuneTec—they've got me rewiring circuit board prototypes. Easier than reprinting.”

“How'd you learn to do that?”

“Crash vocational training in Long Hedge. Honestly? It just took a couple weeks to learn. I'm not especially skilled or educated. Just—” She tapped her horn a couple times with a hoof.

“So there's a call for unicorn magic on Earth.”

“They say it has applications,” she chimed, getting up for another slice of upside-down cake.

“So you answered the call?”

She switched her tail. “It's a living.”

I waited until she was sitting down again. “Where's Long Hedge? Is that on my side or yours?”

“Mine. It's pretty close to Witherton, which is where I grew up.”

“I don't remember Witherton from the show. Then again, I'm not a superfan.”

“You just watched the show because?”

“Yeah.” Everyone had watched it by then, pretty much. If a world of pastel horses pulls up beside yours, you're gonna want to learn what they're all about. Six seasons in, Celestia had opened a portal to Earth in order to ask our world's leaders for help overcoming a crisis she couldn't face any other way. There'd been chaos—even though it'd been classified, there were crazy rumors everywhere, and the media hadn't yet sorted out all the conspiracies. But our leaders, somehow, had gotten their act together enough to answer the call, and saved Equestria from being torn apart. Now, Equestria controlled all access to and from its world, and very few humans were allowed in. Immigration the other way wasn't so restrictive, but there wasn't much demand for it. Not too many ponies chose to leave their idyllic homeland when Earth was the alternative.

As for the show itself, it had wrapped up, but it had been replaced by a reality show starring Princess Twilight Sparkle. Spike was her cameradragon, except for aerial shots, which were mostly handled by Rainbow Dash. Color film was new to Equestria, as were various technical improvements to the filming process that Earth had provided. The show, which centered on life in Ponyville and occasionally on Twilight's royal duties, was edited by a royally appointed Canterlot crew, with Twilight as a producer. It was shown regularly in theaters throughout Equestria and on Earth television.

“Witherton isn't in the show. The closest place that was in the show is Winsome Falls. We're about thirty miles northwest. Long Hedge is a little closer, along the plateau.”

“Okay.”

“Work is fine, anyway. I mean, it's not like I understand the architecture of the boards I work on. But that just puts me on par with the whole software division.”

“Uh huh.”

She took a hefty bite of her second piece, this time using magic to lift it to her mouth. “So what do you do?”

“Nothing so impressive. I work in a big garden store.”

Her eyes were hungry. “How big?”

I gestured. “The lot's about as big as this building.”

She laughed, showing more mirth than I'd seen so far. “You think that's less impressive than mucking around with tiny transistors?”

“Aheh. Uh, yeah! It's uniform work. You know, restocking, building displays, helping customers carry things...”

“Do you know about gardens?”

“I've picked up a fair bit. My ex-fiance and I had a little garden of our own back in Hoboken, but mostly I'm a vicarious gardener.”

“Then your job is more impressive than mine.”

I hadn't expected anybody to ever tell me that. I leaned back in the chair and stretched my legs. “Do you get a salary?”

“I will, once they get my paperwork through!”

“I'm a wage worker. So.”

“So?”

“So you win.”

She laughed. “I win?”

“Yep. Your job is better.”

She finished her second piece of cake and wrinkled her nose at me, a few crumbs clinging. “Because of the way we get paid? You're just trying to make me feel better, aren't you?”

A few possible answers flashed through my head before I came up with: “Isn't that what friends are for?”

She was caught off guard by that one. Slowly, she started nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, it is!”

I stood up, having finished my slice of cake a while ago. “Well, in that case, I think I'll leave on a high note.”

“You're going already? I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?”

“Nah.” I spread my hands. “I mean, I could stay. It's just... I'm a little shy, that's all.”

“Really? Shy? You're the one who knocked on my door and introduced yourself.”

“I know. And... well, that's about all I've got in me for one day! But don't worry... I'll be back.”

She stood up. “You'd better.”

Well, the truth was, I wasn't _quite_ as shy as all that. It was more that I'd never talked to a pony before, and the experience had given me a lot to absorb. But I didn't want to make my new friend feel any more unusual than she already did.

I smiled shyly. “I'm just down in 308. Stop by if you need anything.”

“308, got it. Will do.”

“It was nice meeting you, Peach Spark.”

“Nice meeting you, Counselor Pepper.”

I stopped on my way to the door and looked back at her in dismay.

“Sorry, I forgot your real name,” she said sheepishly.

“It's Ron. Or Ronald. No—you know what? Counselor Pepper is fine.”

She chuckled. “You sure?”

I stepped into the hallway and held the door. “You can call me Pepper for short.”

“Only if you call me Peach!”

I found this unexpectedly flattering. “I'll think about it,” I replied, stifling a grin. “See you around, Sparky.”

She snorted with indignant laughter and shut the door on me. “Sparky, indeed!” I heard her say.

It was half a minute before I stepped away from the door and headed downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's notes:
> 
> Humans in Equestria can be fun, and one of my very favorite pony stories, Arddun Lleuad, belongs to that class. But it's been done often enough to be a cliché. Ponies on Earth, though, don't seem to have been done much at all, and I've never encountered a story about an ordinary pony simply living on Earth. So I had to write one.
> 
> I've shown what I have so far to a few friends, but I really would like to hear what you think. For me, imagining potential interactions with ponies is perpetually compelling. When I read stories, I often put myself in the position of characters and imagine how I would speak or act in their place, and pony stories are no exception. Does the way Ronald acts here compare to how you would? Is it hypocritical or prejudiced for him to introduce himself to Peach but not to anyone else in the building? Is he a jerk for making fun of her name, even in jest? Which questions would you ask in his position? Which would you be afraid to?


	2. Fantasy Football

PART OF what it means to be shy—one small silver lining—is that you get to enjoy secret passions. There's something to be said for texting the whole world with what's floating your boat, but sometimes that just lets the excitement get away from you. When my job was dull, which was more often than not, I used to fixate on something exciting to pass the time. A big game coming up, for example, or a trip I was planning, even if it was just to Manhattan. When I was with Cindy of course, sometimes it would be her—a date we were planning, or our wedding, or (more likely) our honeymoon night. If I had nothing exciting in my life, I'd make something up. I've never had any deficit of imagination.

Now, in the week after meeting the unicorn in 412, I found my imagination didn't need any help at all. To my surprise, I was fixating on when we'd meet again. I was mulling over excuses for dropping by and dishes I could make and introductory lines I could use, and imagining what we'd do, Peach Spark and I, and it was halfway through a greenhouse shift that I realized I was thinking about her a lot like I used to think about prospective dates. That muddled me up, because I'd also been telling myself I wasn't thinking about her that way.

Really, it was an easy argument: I'm not attracted to ponies, I'm attracted to women. That should be the end of it, right? But some part of me kept fantasizing about spending time with Peach Spark, and eventually I realized something important: Even though it was all from a non-sexual place, it might as well have been sexual, because it involved that same thrill of exploration—that same sense of a gold mine right in front of me, waiting to be delved into. The bliss of the unknown. My first girlfriend had felt like that, and so had Cindy, and now so did Peach Spark, even if the nature of that mine was completely different. And really, why shouldn't it be different? Discovery was all about newness, wasn't it? You can't discover what you already know.

As it turned out, I didn't need to settle on an excuse. Three days after I'd introduced myself, she visited me. Somehow, I'd known it was her just from the way she rapped on the door. Luckily, I was fully dressed and not in the middle of anything.

“Hi!” I said, opening up. It felt strange to open my door and see an unnaturally colored quadruped smiling nervously at me. Like something had gone wrong with the apartment's utilities, and now my door opened into the TV set for whatever reason. But it was definitely a good kind of strange.

“Hi, Pepper!” She sat down, right in the hallway. “Is this an okay time? To visit, I mean?”

“Sure, yeah. What's up?”

There was a little flash of forlorn in her eyes before she went back to friendly. “Nothing's up, really. It's just you haven't come by, and I was wondering... you know.”

If I'd forgotten her? If I'd been fibbing about being friends, like those other people she'd met? Instantly, I realized I'd been foolish. I hadn't needed an excuse to visit—I just needed to go. She hadn't had an excuse, and here she was anyway, on the floor in the hall.

I also realized I was blocking the doorway. “Oh, come in, come in! Yeah, I'd been thinking about visiting—honest!” But was an understatement like that really honest?

She ambled into my pad and looked around. Her eye was caught by my wall of pennants, which delighted me. It was at that moment I had my first flash of insight into how the joy of discovery really works—it was as much about what _she_ was discovering as what I would.

“What's all this?”

“Just a tour of the American East! These are mostly from college football.” I lifted a dangling Mountaineers pennant. “Do you know what football is?”

“It's a sport,” she offered.

“Too true. Ever seen a game?”

“Seen, nothing. I've played!”

That caught me off guard, but it wasn't long before I remembered the clues—that one time Fluttershy wore a football helmet; the kick-off between Rainbow Dash and Applejack; the fake football mark Twilight tried to give Apple Bloom. (Of course, they called it 'hoofball', but whatever.) It turned out, though, that the game they played in Equestria had somewhat different rules. Ironically, the fact that the players had four feet made it impossible for them to play proper _football_ : they were unable to carry the ball while running. That meant their game's downs ended upon a successful pass or recovery, but it also meant a plethora of other different rules, such as 'charging' in addition to tackling, intercepting players being allowed to pass the ball, and rare situations in which players could make a second pass. Not to mention that their field goals, kick-offs and punts were normally made with both rear hooves at once. We had an amusing time imagining human players playing by Equestrian rules.

And there it was. Mission accomplished—ice broken. Touchdown. My guest lay sprawled over my sofa, front legs on a wooden chest, tail switching intermittently from one side to the other. It didn't look like she could possibly be comfortable like that, but she seemed to be. I was in a stuffed chair with a ginger ale, but I'd been joking around on the floor, helping Peach Spark show me how to charge the quarterback. I grinned at the wall of pennants—they'd finally come in handy for something.

“That one says 'Buffalo',” she noticed, pointing one out.

“Mm, yeah. Buffalo Bulls. University of Buffalo.”

She perked up, which made my heart even lighter. “You have a university for buffalo?”

“It's... no, sorry. You know we humans are the only folks over here.”

A little deflation, a little weight back on my heart. “Oh yeah, right. Then why's it called that?”

“It's in the city of Buffalo. New York.”

She turned to look at me. “You have a city called Buffalo, but no buffalo to live there?”

I sighed. “It's a cruel world, Peach.”

She pushed herself back onto the sofa and put her forelegs over the armrest, looking at me. “Is it?”

“I was joking, but... well, kind of.”

“Is that why—” She stopped short.

“Is that why what?”

“Never mind. So, do you play hoofball, or do you—”

“Is that why we make up worlds like yours? Is that what you were asking?”

She pulled herself in. “Yeah.”

“I think so. Yeah, I think it is. You... you've got fantasies in your world, right?”

“Of course. But do you mean in books?”

“Sure, books. I mean, there's Daring Do, right?” Except she'd turned out to be based on reality. Was there anything so fanciful in the world of Equestria that it couldn't ever be real?

She nodded. “We've got plenty of stories. Adventure stories like Yearling's stuff, sure. Historical fiction, romances, intrigue...”

“What about fantasy?”

She seemed to be getting increasingly cautious, while remaining friendly. “Like horror stories? We've got those.”

“Horror is different from fantasy. I mean...” But I didn't really know fantasy, myself. I gestured. “Wild stuff. Weird creatures that don't really exist. Kinds of magic that aren't real.”

“Yeah, that's more or less horror. Or maybe the really arcane historical stuff. Unless you're talking about foal's lit?”

“I... I guess I might be. What kind of stuff happens in foals' books?”

“Well...” Now it was her turn to gesture vaguely. “Like, you buy an egg at the market and it hatches, only instead of a chicken it's a tiny fox, and the fox sings and the song paints your walls... bizarre stuff like that.”

“Huh. And that sort of thing doesn't happen in grown-ups' books?”

“Not that I can think of. I'm not the biggest reader.”

“Better question. Is that possible in real life? Could an egg ever really hatch a tiny fox that paints the walls with its song?”

“Never heard of anything like that,” she answered seriously.

“But is it possible?”

Something seemed to be rising in her. “Who knows? Anything's possible. Enchant a fox so it lays eggs, stick some music in it...”

“There's magic that can do that?”

“How should I know?” she snapped. “Just because I'm a unicorn doesn't mean I know the ultimate boundaries of magic.”

I took a breath and sat back. “So... when you say 'Anything's possible', you really believe it.”

She stared. “You don't?”

I had to think about it. “I guess... I guess now I do.”

Her smile was self-satisfied.

“So... it sounds like you don't really have the concept of 'fantasy' that we do,” I pressed.

“We have personal fantasies. But no, I don't think it's a kind of fiction, if that's what you're getting at.”

“Then I guess the answer's yes. We make worlds like yours, because we need to.”

Peach Spark sat back, biting her own lip. Was she upset, or just digesting? I couldn't tell.

“You want anything to eat? Another ginger ale, maybe?”

She looked at me, still biting her lip. “I'm good.”

I tried to guess what she was thinking. My eyes strayed to the pennants and jerseys on my wall, and I blurted: “You know, I wonder why your rules are different from ours. For football, I mean.”

“I thought we covered that. Different body shapes.”

“Yeah, but—” There was something here, and I wanted to find it. “Look. That wouldn't have stopped the writers, if they'd actually ever shown a game. They could have had you guys running with the ball. I mean, I know ponies can sometimes run on two legs—we see Pinkie doing it...”

“That mare is mental.”

I snickered. “Well maybe, but... I mean, it's physiologically possible, right?”

“Sure. Just, really, really awkward. I mean...” She thought. “Would you have a sport where you walk on all fours? Or just on your hands?”

“That'd be a sight.”

“Can you even walk on your hands?”

“I can't. Some people can.”

“So there you go. Anything's _possible_ , but some things are just dumb.”

“You could carry the ball in your mouth. Or just unicorns could carry it.”

“Hoofball's mainly an earth pony game. I mean, yeah, sure, we... we _could've_ been written that way. But...” She licked the inside of her mouth. “I'm glad we weren't.”

The mindblowing aspect of our worlds' relationship was finally coming to light. I worked up some courage, and then asked: “So if the show's writers had made different choices... do you think you'd be here now?”

She looked sharply at me. Her eyes were brighter than you might expect, right between blue and green. I hadn't really noticed before. “Probably not me, no. Somepony a lot like me, sure.”

“Isn't that weird?”

She banged the arm of my sofa. “Isn't this whole _thing_ weird?”

I couldn't argue with that. “Honestly. Do you think Lauren Faust and the staff of the show, do you think they shaped you?”

“It's a nonsense question. It's pig manure.”

“It's not nonsense! We were just talking about football—”

She interrupted loudly. “We have—the relationship we have. Okay?”

I was silent. I would have said I was sorry, if I thought it would mean something.

“Look.” The unicorn got off my couch and paced slowly, awkwardly around the room. “From my point of view. A big threat shows up, it's just rumors for most of us. A god-tremor that's gonna tear our world apart if our leaders don't do something. Not a thing most of us can do about it, especially not without facts. But the princesses deal with this kind of thing. Celestia opens a portal, and suddenly there are these new weird creatures coming through and sending gifts, okay, fine. Weird, but not much weirder than the Dragon Kingdom and their insane traditions, or the Crystal Empire popping up after a thousand years. It happens.” She paused to steal a swig from my ginger ale. “But then the crisis passes, and we learn these creatures aren't just otherworldly people.” She looked at me straight-on. “They're our creators. They conceived of us, as their figments, their _fantasies_. Suddenly I'm a fantasy. I'm someone's wish come true. Maybe yours, Ronald.”

“That's not fair--”

“Let me _talk._ Everything in our world, everything we thought was the way it was because of...” She stood upright and waved her front hooves. “What does it matter? Forget all the natural history books in the libraries, forget the ancient scrolls. We're the way we are because of _you_. Because of people we'd never heard of. Your culture, your history, your dreams. That's why. We are. The way we are.” Again, her bright eyes glared, and I appreciated their power. “What does it _matter_ whether you found us or you made us? We have our history either way, just the same. And the history isn't wrong. It's just... it's irrelevant. _This_ place is what matters. You wanted to know why I came here.”

“You... you said there was good-paying work here for a unicorn.”

“That's just what made it possible. That's why I came to Elizabeth—there was an offer. But I came to _Earth_ because...” She looked behind herself and shook her head. “I don't understand why _everypony_ doesn't. I know, it's rotten here. I know, it's full of crime and poverty and the crime and poverty in our world is just a _shadow_. I get that it's hard!” She stamped her hoof. “But this is the _motherland_ , Pepper! I came here... I came here because it's the motherland. And I've got to understand.”

I really had not expected a speech like this from the relatively wary peach-colored pony I'd met last Sunday, or the perky mare I'd just pretended to play hoofball with. I felt incapable of answering, but I tried. “You've got to understand what makes you the way you are.”

“Yes.” Her face was close to mine now, and I can't say I wasn't a little afraid. “I've got to. All my life, I thought the teachers and the books and the laboratories had the answers. Failing them, the royal academy, or at least the _princess_ must have the answers!” She swallowed, inches from me. “But now it turns out they were all wrong. Every one of them. The answers are all over here, instead.”

I looked down, closed my eyes, and breathed. It was too much. I understood what she was saying, but I didn't have any comfort. If comfort was even what she needed.

“I'm sorry.” I forced myself to meet her eyes again. She'd sat down on the little rug in the middle of the room. “Sorry I went off like that,” she said quietly. Then she paused. “Things can be peachy, but all it takes is a spark.”

My eyes fell to her cutie mark. Definitely a spark of blue, probably electricity. Definitely two metal rods with nodes on the ends. It didn't go with the color of her coat, but it matched her eyes, and her eyes went with her coat. _Her eyes bridged the gap._

“I know how that is,” I murmured. “At least a little. I never had my world turned upside-down, but... I know how one little thing...”

She gave me a meaningful look.

“One little thing can bring it all crashing down,” I said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And this? This isn't little.”

I scooted back in my chair. “No. I guess it's not,” I admitted.

I don't know how much silence followed. When I next looked up, Peach Spark was at the door, her tail low.

“See you around, Pepper.” She didn't sound angry. She sounded determined.

“Oh—uh, goodbye! Glad you could stop by!” I knew I sounded like an idiot, but I had to say something.

“Thanks for the ginger ale.” With that, she stepped out and her magic reached to shut the door behind her. I was alone.

My mind churned. I didn't understand everything, but somehow, I had to get that pony the answers she needed. I had to.

Would I have been happier if things been the other way around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Notes:
> 
> Chapter 2... in which things take a turn for the existential. But hopefully not an unwelcome one!
> 
> This chapter is almost exactly the same length as the first. That may not seem like a big deal, but after writing two serials in which each new chapter wound up substantially longer than the last, I'm actually fairly proud of this fact. ;-)
> 
> Is it weird that this story currently has more favorites than thumbs up? That seems kinda weird to me. :]


	3. Sanitization

IT WAS FRIDAY morning, and I had a seven hour shift ahead at the garden center. The newsstand near the rail depot rarely caught my attention, but today it did. I scanned the magazines with a curious eye—an outsider’s eye, now that I had a friend who was very much an outsider—but with a certain odd satisfaction I settled for a simple newspaper. I got my news from apps and web articles, but it felt nice to hold a newspaper in my hands for a change.

It crossed my mind to wonder whether unicorns get the same pleasure from hefting something weighty and solid with their magic. From there I started wondering what pleasures I might be missing.

At four o’clock, with work behind me, I took the bus home, fixed myself a sandwich, and showered. I’d already showered that morning, which seemed a little silly, but today felt special. Today, I felt like an information provider.

I headed for the stairwell, planning to head up to 412, but I broke out in a huge unexpected smile instead when I heard _clip clop clip_ on the stairs below and I realized I’d caught her on her way home.

Then came the dull creak of the second floor door opening. “Hey, pony!” said a man's too-loud voice. It wasn’t a greeting so much as a challenge, or a look-at-me call.

“Hey,” said Peach's voice. I heard her hoofsteps pass the landing below.

“You back from your big job? Earn some good cash today, pony?”

I couldn’t imagine what he's implying, but I instantly hated the man. Not knowing what I would do, I started down the stairs.

“What do _you_ think?” asked Peach Spark. As she came into view, I saw that her mane was frazzled and she had a halo of magic rising from her horn.

The man laughed. He had a big chest and a ring of stubble just under his chin. “I think you earn your keep pretty good.”

_Just walk past him_ , I wanted to say. _He's not gonna chase you._ But my friend paused on the steps and eyed the man. “Why don't you just be frank? What do you want from me?”

Just like a pony, I thought. And it did shut him up for a moment. “I just want to be friends, pony!” he eventually declared, like it was the funniest thing in the world and he had an audience. He glanced up at me and raised an eyebrow.

Peach noticed me too. “Pepper,” she breathed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said. “I was just heading up to your place. Gonna see if you were in.”

My words weren't meant for the big man, of course, but he did a double take. “You... were headed up to her place?” Scathing mock-concern.

Peach’s attention switched quickly from me to the troublemaker. “You want to be my friend?” she asked him in the tone of an ultimatum. “Then you can come up too.”

I blinked. Was I going to have to throw a punch in the stairwell? Was the super going to hear about this?

The man glanced up the stairs and back to Peach. “You want me... to come up to your place?” His hand was at his own chest, his mocking tone the same.

“You said you want to be my friend,” repeated Peach, and I could hear the nastiness she was holding in. “If that's true, you can come up and join us.”

The man laughed in disbelief crossed with triumph. He glanced to the side like there was a buddy there to back him up, but there wasn’t. “You got me wrong, pony. I don't want to go up to your place.”

Peach kept speaking evenly, if impatiently. “And yet, that's what it's going to take. If you want to be my friend.”

His laughing got more disgusted, more embarrassed. Finally, he snorted in exasperation and uttered, very quietly as if in disbelief—“You're a slut!”

That’s when I moved down the stairs. But Peach said “Right, then,” in a quiet voice and started up at the same time. We almost collided. She nodded me upward, so I took a last look at the bewildered man, turned around, and rose. Peach followed.

The man watched us go but didn't say anything more.

We let the fourth floor door latch behind us before speaking. “That guy's a fucking bully,” I said.

“No kidding,” said Peach.

“I'm sorry you had to put up with that! You know, you could've just walked by him. You didn't need to engage.”

“Engage?” She looked back at me as we walked. “You mean, talk to him?”

“Yeah, he clearly wasn't up to any good.”

She chewed her bottom lip. I wondered if it was a habit of hers. “I know.”

“So why'd you talk to him?” I pressed.

“I'm here to learn, remember? And besides, he said he wanted to be friends.”

Unbelievable. “Peach, he was making fun of you! He didn't mean it.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I had to give him the benefit of the doubt, didn't I? Or I'd be as bad as he was?”

She turned around again, giving me a chance to tell her she was wrong. I couldn’t. “You're the friendship expert,” I admitted.

It seemed to vindicate her. “Thank you!” Moments later she added: “Being Equestrian's gotta be good for something.”

We went into her apartment. I plopped my copy of the _Star-Ledger_ down on her counter. I'd meant to present it to her as a special gift—oh, well.

Her ears twitched. “Is that a newspaper?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it for me?”

“Yeah. I figured you might want to check out the news. I mean, I know you don't have internet...”

Her legs were around my shoulders before I knew it. I started to breathe faster. “ _Thank_ you,” she told me. Before I could hug back, she’d released me, but still—I’d been hugged by a pony!

“You really needed some kind of boost, huh?” I asked.

“ _Anything_ ,” she confirmed, heading to the fridge.

“Have a hard day?”

She bustled around in there, emerging with a deli pasta salad and a jar of artichoke hearts held in her blue glow. “You could say that.” She plopped the jar on the counter and dropped some hearts directly into the salad, then levitated a fork from a drawer and went to sit on a cushion beside her little table. “Really, it wasn't that hard. Just thankless.”

“Your coworkers don't appreciate you?”

A bowl rose up before me, inviting me to take it. I smiled at Peach and took the bowl—it's strange being handed something by a unicorn. “I think they appreciate me. Like you appreciate a wire cutter or a can opener.”

“That doesn't sound so good.”

“It's not.” She patted a cushion beside her. I went and sat beside her, and she used her mind to spoon some of her salad into my bowl. I grinned without knowing why, except that it felt intimate.

“Thanks,” I said. “They just appreciate you like you were a tool?”

“That's kind of what I am to them. The chief engineer gives me schematics and I follow them. Sometimes he wants variations and I implement them. I'm basically a tool, just making tiny canals of copper flow here instead of there.”

“But you understand the schematics. I mean, that takes skill.”

“A little. It's not as if I make my own suggestions. The fact that I'm a person, that I can talk, isn't really relevant to what I do most of the time. I mean, they make small talk with me, but it's got nothing to do with what I'm there for.”

“Sorry to hear it,” I said, my mouth full of cranberries, celery and fusilli. “I wish it weren't like that, but a lot of people's jobs treat them like tools.”

She munched her food. “Maybe so, but how many of them are surrounded by the thinkers?”

I’d been thinking of assembly lines more than anything. “I guess that's pretty uncommon.”

“I feel like an expensive toy,” she muttered. “‘What if we have Peach do this? Well, what if we have her do this?' I just stand there, or sit, and wait for someone else to make the plan.” She looked sharply at me. “Have you got any of the toys? The plastic ponies with the hair?”

I didn't know what answer she was hoping for. “No, I never saw any point in it.”

“We'll need to get some,” she decided, glowering. And she returned to her salad.

“What for?”

“I want to know what it's like.” She looked back. “Playing with them. I want to see if I feel the same way my bosses feel when they use me to solve their problems.”

I couldn't hide my grin completely behind my fork. “Somehow I doubt you will.”

“I'm not so sure,” she replied.

We ate for a while.

She hovered the newspaper over and I helped her make sense of the stories. Eventually I let her read on her own for a while, while I took a look at the electrical equipment on her shelves, wondering where she’d gotten it all. When I came back, she was poring through the weather report on the back of the local section.

I smiled. “Just so you know... those are sometimes wrong.”

After a moment she looked up. “Huh?”

“The weather forecasts. They're not always right.”

She wrinkled her brow. “They're not always _right?_ ”

“No, they can be pretty far off sometimes.”

“Why... why would they even print them if they're not true?”

I restrained my smile from getting too big. “They're just guesses! We don't control the weather here. We just guess what it's going to be.”

She looked at me like I was crazy, and I couldn’t stop myself from snickering.

“I heard about that, I guess,” she admitted. “Still. Why even bother printing _guesses?_ ”

I shrugged. “Better than nothing.”

She stared at the page for a while, then turned, frowning, to the crossword puzzle.

If I’d been any good at crosswords, I would have offered to do the puzzle with her. Since I wasn’t, I just sat down and made conversation. “Did you get newspapers in Witherton?”

“We had a small one,” she answered. “My family got the _Equestria Daily_ instead.”

“Did it cost more?”

“Yeah, somewhat. Teleported in each morning, so.”

I tried to wrap my head around the concept of teleportation costs. “So how different is it?”

She frowned, thinking about it. “You've got more detail. Your stories are longer.” She levitated the paper and riffled its pages briefly, though she lacked the precision of Twilight Sparkle. “It's more pages, too. Your paper just has more in it.”

“Huh. Well, we are in the biggest metro area in the country.”

“Yeah. But even so.” She returned to reading.

“Even so?” I pressed.

“It's not just that you've got more people. It's not just that more happens here.” She ran a hoof along the length of a column, a story about a debate over where to build a mosque. “There's actually more detail. I'm starting to see that everywhere.”

This was a little chilling. “More detail?”

“All the procedural stuff at work. The meetings, the manuals. Best practices. All the laws! Is it true your lawbooks are, like, reams thick?” She raised a forehoof above the floor to demonstrate.

“I think they don't usually compile them into one book,” I answered.

“Exactly. And no one knows what's in them. I've been looking everywhere, Pepper. Your architecture. Your cities, like the layout. I'm starting to think it's even the way people behave, the social codes or whatever. And now the newspapers.” She shut the paper up with a magical clap. “Everything is more complicated here.”

I wanted to give her a hug, but she didn't look receptive. “I guess it feels that way getting used to a new place...”

She shook her head. “I've been here almost two weeks. I'm pretty sure it's not just that.” She looked me in the eye accusingly. “You wrote us simple. Didn't you.”

The chill I'd been feeling washed over me. “Um... I guess? I mean, it is a kids' show.”

There was sullen triumph on her face. “Exactly. We had to be simple enough for your kids to understand.” Then her confidence collapsed. “Oh, Celestia. Oh sweet heavens.”

She folded up with her eyes closed and put her face in the paper. I sat down and put my arm around her. She twitched, but softened.

“Maybe it has to be this way,” Peach muttered, her ears tilting back. “Maybe you can't create a new world without making it simpler than what you’ve got. Maybe it's just not possible to keep everything.”

“Hold on,” I objected. “There's tons of stuff in your world that wasn't in the show. All the geography, the countries no one'd ever heard of. The history. All the nitty gritty stuff, the economics, the grown-up stuff. I mean, that exists! You have all that, right, even though it never got shown?”

I'd seen lists, in fact, of countless details of Equestria’s world that were never even hinted at in canon. They’d been part of the great news onslaught that had accompanied first contact between our worlds. But the funny thing was, in all those debates and testimonials, I’d never once seen anyone make Peach's simple, devastating observation: You wrote us simple. Probably a lot of people on both sides had been thinking it, but were just afraid to say it out loud.

“There's all that, sure,” said Peach, still huddled. “But that's breadth. Not depth.”

I hugged her as well as I could from my position. “You seem deep to me.” Wow. I sounded corny even to myself. I couldn’t believe I was saying this to a girl.

Slowly, she stood up and took a deep breath. She turned around, now standing on the paper, and it seemed like she was calming down. Then she raised her head and asked in a small but piercing voice: “What's a slut?”

Oh, god. “You don't know that word?”

“No. I don't know it. What did that man call me?”

_Please, someone else, answer this question for me._ But no one else was there, of course, because I was her only friend. The girl with one friend needed it explained why she'd been called a slut. “It's... it means someone... a girl... who's easy. Who goes to bed with everyone.”

“Goes to bed with... oh, seriously? So he was calling me loose under the covers?”

I winced. “Yeah. You invited him up, I was going up with you, I guess he jumped to some conclusions.”

She stared at me in horror. “Is that what people will think? If you're coming to see me, we must be involved?”

I hung my head a little. “I don't know. Maybe. It's not like there are social standards for this.”

“Because I'm a pony?”

“...Yeah.”

“So what if I weren't a pony? What if I were a woman? Would people assume it then?”

“Um.” My experience was limited, but... “Probably, yeah.”

She hid her face again. “Crepes,” she swore. “And we don't even have the language for it.” Then up came her stare. “You didn't just write us simple. You sanitized us!”

_It wasn't me_ , I mouthed, but I couldn't say it aloud.

“Do you have other words we're not allowed to have? Secret words? Forbidden words?”

I nodded humbly and name a few of them for her.

“CREPES!!” She stood up tall and threw up her head, wincing, and it seemed like the exact wrong time to tell her 'crepes' wasn't a real swear.

I glanced at the paper lying on the floor. The top story, which we’d covered earlier, was another scandal—the governor was once again being accused of retributive politics. Sure, we had nasty politics here on Earth. We even had brutal dictators. But at least we didn't have supervillains—not really. I was about to point that out, but then I realized that even supervillains were just sanitized evil. Sanitization doesn't mean getting rid of evil. It means making it comprehensible.

“Peach.”

She seemed about ready to cry. She didn't speak.

I talked as gently as I could, almost apologetically. “You know, your world is what it is. Because of its history, because of its magic, its great leaders, its creatures...” She shut her eyes, all her legs stretched out fully. “If your world _is_ so nice that it doesn't need words like 'slut'... that's because things have gone so well. One way or another, you've learned to live in harmony. It's not because we somehow made you this way. It's because... that's just how ponies are. You should be... you should be proud.”

With a deep breath, the tension left her. “Even so,” she mumbled. “Even so. Even if it's historical chance that did it, not a writer's pen. We're simpletons. We're children, in grown-up bodies, leading grown-up lives.”

“You are _not_ children.”

“We might as well be.”

“Then what's so bad about that?”

She shook her head.

“You're what we wish we could be. What's so bad about that?”

She walked away, back into her kitchenette. Away went the leftover pasta salad and the artichoke hearts, back into the fridge. Back came Peach to lie on her futon mattress. Her mane was a mess, and I felt bad for wanting to comb it.

“It means we're less than you are, Pepper,” she finally said, looking at the floor. “A wish is only a part of a person.”

“You're not any less than we are,” I countered. “You've got all this stuff we don't have. Magic. Weather control. Supervillains, and epic quests, and trees of harmony and empires rising after a thousand years. Wishes can be more, not less.”

She looked at me with pity, as if I’d just said the corniest thing in the world. Cornier than 'You seem deep to me.' I looked back at her sadly because I’d meant it.

“Well, either way, I'm just a wish,” she said, swishing her tail. “I don't know, Pepper. That's gonna take some getting used to.”

I wished I could argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> I'm really getting into this! Ronald may say the metaphysics of the situation are beyond him, but he's getting drawn in regardless. I've had a few niftily thoughtful comments from readers not afraid to speculate on the relationship between Earth and Equestria in this story. Feel free to join in!
> 
> Next chapter will be a little longer and have more action.
> 
> Edited on 10/25/15: I originally wrote this chapter in the present tense! It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. Eventually, given that I never went back into present tense, it became clear that I had to change it to past tense to match the rest of the story, so today I went back and revised it into what you see here.


	4. Turtlewood Coffee

I MAY GIVE the impression of being kind of a lonely guy, and it's true. Like Peach Spark, I moved here for the work, but actually for another reason. My engagement had failed and I wanted to put some distance between myself and Cindy, and I had friends in the metro area. One of them, Laurie, had known about an opening at her garden center, and another, Barrett, had known about a vacancy in his apartment building. It had all worked out perfectly, so I moved in and took the job.

Now, four years later, Laurie was no longer at the garden center, Barrett was no longer in the apartment building, and I didn't see much of that group of friends anymore. Yet there I still was, plugging away.

My brother Noam lived across the state, near Mom. Our sister lived nearby too, but we didn't hear from her much these days except for special occasions. Noam, though, would call me up once or twice a week to catch up. Usually I didn't have much to report.

“Mom wants to know if you've met any girls lately,” he told me Sunday night. Well, that was a beautiful way of putting it. I was puttering in the kitchen, trying to recreate my success from the week before, but with mandarin oranges and maraschino cherries instead of pineapple.

“Kind of?” I answered.

“Kind of? Kind of like, you've kind of met someone, or kind of like, you're only kind of into her?”

I could have weaseled out, but that wasn't how mom raised me. “Kind of like, kind of a girl.”

“Uh...” My brother's voice was nervously confused. “D—you mean like—an older woman?”

I actually had the idea Peach and I were about the same age. “Not what I meant, no.” I wanted to see how long it would take him to guess.

“You're being tricky. Uh—wait. A pony? You met a pony girl?!”

I smiled—didn't take him long at all. “That's right.”

He laughed uneasily. “Um... so... are you into her?”

I wasn't sure quite what to say, so I stopped being coy and laid it on the line. “I'm not attracted to her, if that's what you mean. Not physically. But I can't stop thinking about her.”

There's a pause. “Is that what you want me to tell Mom?” asked my brother.

My turn to laugh nervously. “Not in the slightest,” I replied.

He laughed with me. “Yeah—I didn't think so. So... so why can't you stop thinking about her?”

“I don't know. She's the first pony I've ever met—I guess that's why. She's fascinating!”

“Is it because she's different?”

I didn't feel like I liked his tone, but I wasn't sure. “Come on, Noam. Don't you want to know what ponies think? Don't you want to know how their minds work?”

“Sounds kind of like a trip to the science museum. And maybe the zoo, too.”

“That's a crass way of putting it.”

“Sorry, Ron. So what—you fell in love with her mind?”

“I'm not in love.”

“Well, you said you can't stop thinking about her.”

“It's an exciting new friendship, that's all.”

My brother let out a sudden high-pitched cheer that made me jerk my phone away. “WOOO! An exciting new friendship! Way to go, Ron!” His laugh was knowing now, not nervous. “I'm sure glad you know the difference between an exciting new friendship with a girl and being in love, 'cause I sure wouldn't.”

Did I mention he's my older brother?

“No, you probably wouldn't,” I retorted. His comment had struck home—he'd wanted me to feel doubt, and I did.

“Well, you have fun with your mare friend. I'll tell Mom you're still looking.”

Huh. Was I still looking? “Thanks. Maybe I'll bring her over sometime.”

“Yeah, that'd be a hoot.”

“...Later, Noam.”

“Catch you later, Ron.”

Well, that had been embarrassing. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned Peach at all. But I couldn't stand lying to people I cared about.

\~/ \~/ \~/ \~/

Peach Spark didn't have a mobile phone, or an internet connection. She had a land line—I'd seen a phone in her apartment—but in our three times together I'd never asked for her number. In a way, it was better to have to drop a note in her mailbox in order to get in touch with her. She was still exotic, still exciting. You don't just call a unicorn up on the phone. You have to summon her with paper and ink. I figured a little sticker of Fluttershy smiling at some butterflies couldn't hurt either.

“Missed you last Monday,” my note read. “Sorry—I had to work all weekend. Want to get together sometime?” I signed it “Counselor Pepper”. Really, I was afraid things had gone wrong between us after last time. When I'd left her apartment, she'd been pretty upset about her place in the world. I'd done my best to console her, and when I'd gotten home, I consoled myself that none of it was my fault. But that didn't mean she'd want to see me again.

I got a reply in my box two days later. Her handwriting—no, hornwriting—was smooth and a little loopy. “Want to take me out? I'm not too brave on my own out there. I heard about a place in Lower Manhattan that likes serving ponies. Let me know when you're up for it. —Sparky”

Well, that was exciting. Brave or not, if she was calling herself Sparky, things must be looking up for her.

As for this place that 'likes serving ponies'? I agreed to take her not knowing whether it was a restaurant or a nightclub or what, but it turned out to be a coffee shop. I showed up on Saturday at noon, prepared for the trip with an umbrella against the drizzly day. Peach Spark greeted me with a smile.

I couldn't leave well enough alone. “What happened to all the angst? What happened to being just a wish for other people?”

She peered at me with amusement, pulling on a yellow raincoat. “Are you ribbing me?”

“Maybe a little. But I'm just wondering...”

“Are you ribbing me about being a fictional character? Really?”

I flushed. “But you're not a fictional character.”

“Only because I wasn't important enough to rate being on the show. But I belong to a fictional species, don't I? From a fictional world. Are you really going to make fun of me for that?”

“I would never!”

“Really?” She looked up at me with shining blue-green eyes, and did I mention she was wearing a yellow raincoat? “Not even a little?”

I was too flustered to be witty. “Do you want me to?” I mumbled.

“Believe it or not, it might make it easier,” she answered.

I'd moved up from flustered to delightfully flabbergasted. “I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“Don't worry!” she reassured me. “I'm sure something'll come to you.”

She twirled her tail in the rain, once we got outside. I kept watching it as we walked. She didn't seem to have a reason for it, other than it being fun. I didn't have the guts to ask about it, but I wondered whether I'd be twirling my tail too, if I had one.

I'm lucky to afford my own apartment in the city with my job—a car is right out. And as far as I know, they aren't even making cars for ponies yet. So that meant a trip by train and by subway to reach the Lower East Side. Peach was getting used to buses and trains—at least they had the latter in Equestria—but the subway still unnerved her.

The train into New York was relatively empty, with plenty of room for Peach to lie across two seats, as was her preference. She'd gotten looks, but just curious ones, as far as I could tell, not angry ones. We had a nice conversation about local landmarks—what she'd seen and done so far, what she was planning on checking out. She hadn't been to Manhattan yet, and in truth it had been a while for me, too. This, I told her, was easily the farthest I'd ever gone for a coffee shop. Then again, I'm not a huge coffee drinker, and I tend to brew my own when I want it. Peach, for her part, had never even had a cup of coffee.

“Never? Really?”

Peach shrugged. “It's a Cameluvian drink.”

I'd heard the name Camelu once or twice since the whole mess began. “But Camelu's not on the show, is it?”

“Exactly. Never even mentioned, except in a fan-made video. And coffee doesn't show up anywhere.”

“So it's lucky you even have coffee at all.”

“Lucky! Well, that's one way of looking at it!” Again her tail twirled as we boarded our subway car. I winced as I imagined it getting caught in the automatic doors. I made sure we walked far enough in there was no chance of that.

We weren't so lucky with the subway—it was pretty full, and we had to stand. Our conversation would have to wait until we reached our station. When the train started off, Peach stumbled forward, then back. Worrying she was going to bump someone, I grabbed her by the... yeah, by the knee, I think. I hope. Part of her back leg. She thanked me. I shifted my position so I could hold her lightly against me with my hand on her back, and that seemed to work. It was embarrassing, but I can't say I wasn't glad for the touch.

“Can't you hold one of these handles with your magic?” I whispered.

“What good would that do? It wouldn't keep me from stumbling.”

“But...” That seemed wrong. “If you can pull the handle toward you, then isn't that the same as pulling yourself toward it?”

She looked quizzically at me. “Since when is that the same?”

I shrugged. “Never mind. Guess the laws of physics don't apply.”

Weirdly—weirdly, it was that, and not me grabbing her back leg, that made her blush.

It's hard to tell if people are watching you in a crowded subway car, since no one makes eye contact anyway. But there was a little girl, maybe five years old, with her mother a few rows away. We must have heard her say “Mom, that's a pony!” at least three times.

“Yes it is, darling. Now hush!” said her mother.

“Can I pet the pony?”

“No—stay here with me.”

“Please??”

“No! Stay here.”

That left us in awkward silence. I crouched and whispered into Peach's ear: “Can I pet the pony?”

She sighed and gave me a look.

“Some other time, then,” I said.

By the time we left the subway, the rain had stopped, so I offered to carry Peach's raincoat. “So. Coffee,” I prompted.

“Coffee,” she said, looking around and spying a sign for Madison Street. We took a right.

“Lucky's one way to look at it?”

“Oh. Right. Look—coffee isn't for kids, is it?”

“No... it's kind of an adult beverage.”

She looked quizzically at me as we walked. “Kind of.”

“Yeah... I mean, it's not as dangerous as booze, but you still want to watch out. It can make you jittery.”

“So it's more like an adolescent beverage.”

I stifled a giggle, then thought better of it and giggled. “Sure, I guess.”

She stopped walking. “That's what I'm getting at! It's in between! I think coffee's something just naughty enough that the writers didn't want to actually put it in the show, but innocent enough that they imagined us having it. And that's why we do have coffee, but it's obscure and exotic.”

I considered this. “You know, the writers have done dozens of interviews... not to mention convention panels. I think they've even testified for scientists.”

“Well, do the scientists have all this straight yet?”

I smiled glumly. “You know the answer to that.”

“Then I can speculate. And if M. A. Larson were here right now, I'd do my best to plumb him.”

I grinned. “I'd like to see that!”

She laughed back.

We reached the place, which was called Turtlewood Coffee, without further incident. From the outside, there was no sign of it catering to ponies except a sign in the corner of the window with the silhouette of a pony, two legs raised, and the words “PONY HOTSPOT”.

“It's a hotspot,” Peach observed.

“Let me know if it gets too hot for you,” I replied.

It was nicely furnished—nice fake leather chairs and sofas, earthy wood walls and counter with green accents. And... yes. Somehow, I could smell them. I hadn't realized until that moment that Peach Spark had a smell, but she did, and this was more of it. It wasn't like the smell of horses at all.

She was beaming. “Someone's here,” she uttered.

“Someone? Other ponies, you mean?” There were a handful of people at the tables and sofas, drinking or reading, but apparently they didn't count as someones.

“Yeah!” She had a wistful tone, as if this half a month on Earth had all been a confusing dream for her and she was just now waking up.

I nodded and peeked around the corner. Sure enough! Two stallions were there, one sea green and curvy with wings, one reddish purple with glasses. A mare, teal and shapely, sat with one leg swinging off the fake leather couch. They were talking quietly when I saw them, but all looked over when Peach Spark appeared.

“Hi!” said the green pegasus. He had crested lilac hair and was wearing a weathered denim vest.

“Hello there,” remarked the earth mare. Blue mane and tail, tall glass of something tan on the coffee table before her.

“Hi,” said Peach, trotting around me and taking them in. She seemed shy, but her shell was breaking. “I heard this was a hangout for Big Apple ponies.”

“You heard right,” said the purplish earth stallion. Red hair, broad figure, glass of something iced.

The teal mare nodded deeply. “Glad to have you!”

And the pegasus was on his feet. “So you thought you'd drop by? That's lovely! I'm Seaswell.” His cutie mark was a giant ocean wave, stylistically rimmed in fun yellows and oranges.

“Peach Spark.” She was grinning.

“I'm Kellydell,” said the teal mare. Her cutie mark was an obelisk with a gem in it. “Is, uh... this a friend of yours?” She gestured toward me.

Peach turned back and indicated me. “Yeah, this is Ronald Pfeffer. He's been great helping me settle in.”

They greeted me, and I said my pleased-to-meet-yous. I wasn't quite sure how to behave, though. Should I be treating them like new friends, or keeping out of the way to let the ponies do their thing? I didn't even know how to feel. If I was excited to meet Peach Spark, you might expect three times the excitement at meeting three new ponies, but somehow my feelings were mixed.

“So how long have you been in New York?” asked Seaswell.

“Actually, I'm in Jersey. Elizabeth. It's been a couple weeks.”

“Are you straight from Equestria?” asked Kellydell.

Peach nodded humbly.

“Wonderful! I can practice on you. I'm working for the Interworld Tourism Board.”

Peach seemed taken aback, as was I. “There is such a thing?” I asked.

“Well, it's new. There aren't any tours yet except for VIPs, but they're training folks on both sides. I used to give tours of Greenisle, and I was good enough doing that that they snapped me up!”

Seaswell leaned toward her, his legs like thick noodles. “And I tagged along!”

“As a good husband ought,” said Kellydell, craning her head toward his until they touched.

The purple-red stallion cleared his throat. “I'm seeing the sights, taking in the auras, and learning about our friends on the other side of the Gate,” he remarked with a nod my way.

Peach let out a happy sigh. “I'm just working for ThuneTec. It sounds like you're all here for more admirable reasons!”

Kellydell shrugged, and the purplish stallion snorted like only ponies can—which is to say, charmingly. “You've got it wrong—I'm the one doing the admiring.” There was something out there about his voice.

Peach lifted a hoof to her chest. “Admiring what?”

He gestured to the whole room, maybe the whole city. “Everything! The whole scene. It's fantabulous, in case you aren't aware.”

“New York, you mean?”

“Sure, but more. Human culture. The things they do, the notions they buy into. It's amazing stuff!”

Peach smiled and glanced back nervously at me. I ventured an answer: “I'm guess I'm glad you think so?”

The maroon stallion turned to face me with a bright grin. “Ronald, was it? It's a privilege to trot through your grand demesne.”

“Uh... I... don't know how to take that. Not very much of it's mine,” I replied sheepishly.

“It's in your veins, though! Brought up with a nice set of human values, weren't you?”

“Human values?” I laughed. “I'm not sure there's any such thing.”

He nodded. “Well, that sort of quandary's just what I'm working on. When I'm done, I'll tell you if there's any such thing!”

He made me both uncomfortable and easy in my skin at the same time, which you'd think was impossible. I realized he hadn't given his name. “And you are...?”

“George. It's a pleasure, Ronald.”

“...George?”

“George Harrison.”

I burst out snickering. “Not exactly a pony name, is it?”

He only grinned more. “More or less the point! I figured while on Earth, I'd try on an Earth name. Besides, I never cared for my given one, and I won't tell you what it was, so don't try me.”

I had to admit, he kind of had the haircut. Manecut. “You realize there was a famous human called George Harrison, right?”

“So I've heard.”

I half expected his cutie mark to be a guitar or a sitar or something, but it was actually a balloony, colorful question mark, more yellow than anything else, but with each segment in a different pattern of colors. He caught me looking. “I'm a bit of a knowledge seeker,” he explained.

“Groovy mark,” I acknowledged.

He grinned again. “I've heard that word once or twice. What would your mark be, if you had one?”

I was caught completely off guard by the question. Maybe that was his specialty—unnerving questions. “No idea. Maybe a flowerpot.”

“No,” chided Peach, teasing me. “You're more than your job.”

“Dunno, then!” But George was still watching me, waiting for an answer, and the others were watching, too. “Ahm—how about I leave you four alone for a while. So you can talk about... pony things.”

Kellydell frowned, but George nodded understandingly. “We'll talk about all the pony things under the sun.”

“Thanks, Pepper,” murmured Peach. “I'll come and find you when we're done.”

So that was that. I went back around the corner, ordered a latte and dropped Peach's raincoat over the back of a chair. Normally my modus operandi at coffee shops involves scoping the place for likely girls, but there was no need for that now. Aside from the fact I was here with a friend, and the fact that Manhattan girls actually intimidated me a bit, I had plenty of questions to ponder while I sipped my drink. For example, is there really such a thing as “human values”, and if so, what are they? Would ponies create the same lists of rights as our human rights organizations did? Maybe they already had. In the same vein, is there such a thing as pan-human culture? Which spots around the world would I pick if I had to lead a tour for ponies? And, not least of all, what would my cutie mark be? What would I even want as a cutie mark?

Definitely not a flowerpot. Yeah, that'd been my most embarrassing moment. I felt like the rest of the encounter had gone pretty well, though. Now and then I could hear Seaswell's high-pitched voice rising in excitement, but I couldn't hear the rest.

I brought my cup back up to the front. “Waiting on your filly friend?” asked the barista.

I wanted to say, She's not my fillyfriend!--but that sounded juvenile in my head and besides, I didn't know if she'd meant it as one word or two. So I just said, “Yeah. I don't think she's met any other ponies her whole time here.”

“Well, she's in the right place! We get about ten or fifteen semi-regulars, and there's a meet-up each week. It's kind of exciting.”

I glanced at the meet-up flier. “Yeah, I guess it would be. How'd this place get into...”

“Becoming popular for ponies? Owner's decision. It's not as hard to attract ponies as it is other demographics. You really just spread the word a little, put out a sign that says 'Pony Friends Welcome', you're set.” She smiled slyly. “They're suckers for friendship.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That's some of the cutest racism I've ever heard.”

She raised one back. “Yeah? Well, I try. Anything else for ya?”

I noticed a couple interesting items in the display case—a Fescue-Bluegrass Salad and a Daisy Marigold Wrap. Huh. But no, I was good. I nursed a cup of water until nature called, and then I discovered that this place didn't have restrooms for Men and Women—it had restrooms for Humans and Ponies. Just little single unit rooms, yet they still felt the need to specify which was which. I was... really tempted to peek into the Ponies room to see what kind of special equipment was in there, but I'm glad to say decency prevailed.

Eventually Peach ambled into view, followed by her new friends.

“Hey Pepper, how's it going?” she called.

I waved halfheartedly. “You ready to go?”

She grinned back, where the green couple (Kellydell just a little bluer and darker than Seaswell) was waiting. “Actually... I've had an offer.”

I felt my stomach drop and I didn't even know why. “Oh?”

“Seaswell here has a sky chariot,” she said bashfully. “For taking Kellydell places. He was thinking... he could give me a ride.”

I sat there breathing. “Oh, um... okay? So... you mean a ride home? So I'd go home alone?”

The peach-colored unicorn trotted up and studied me carefully. “You don't want me to do that, huh?”

“Well...” I felt torn. “It was our afternoon together, and...” And you just met this guy, I wanted to say. Who knows if he's a good enough flier not to drop you, let alone catch you if he does? But I couldn't say that with Seaswell right there, looking jaunty.

“I should go back with Ronald,” Peach told the others. “But I'd love to try your chariot sometime, Seaswell! We'll have to get together again.”

“We should do Staten Island sometime,” suggested Kellydell—to Peach, not me. “And you have to see Times Square, at the very least! Come with me and you can help me polish my shopping tour.”

“I'd love to,” she said. Then she nodded to George, who was bringing up the rear. “I'll call.”

“Nice meeting you,” Seaswell told me on the way out.

“Likewise,” I replied.

But it was George Harrison who offered to shake hoof-and-hand. “Counselor Pepper, I understand?”

I took his hoof and shook gently. “If you can take an Earth name, I'm willing to be saddled with a pony name.” Oops—would he be upset I'd used the word 'saddled'?

He grinned. “We can make it Sergeant Pepper if you like.”

Wow, I was just amassing titles. “That does sound better,” I agreed.

“Be seeing you,” he told me. “And I'll expect an answer on the cutie mark question when I do!”

I smiled nervously and gave a little wave.

The sun was out and working hard at drying up puddles when we left Turtlewood. Peach seemed really pleased. Relieved, even. For my part, I was happy for her yet confused in every other way.

Add this to my list of questions: if I'd happened to meet Kellydell and Seaswell in my apartment building, or George, would they now be as special to me as Peach Spark was? Or was there a reason I still felt she was my special friend aside from that happy accident? Would Peach just be one out of several, even dozens of pony friends, a few years down the line?

I sat across from her on the train, watching her peer out the window while lying on the seats. Somehow, I just couldn't imagine things going that way. But then again, a lot of unimaginable things were happening these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Notes:
> 
> So here we go in a bit of a new direction. These characters will be showing up again--I hope you like them! Peach is certainly feeling more cheerful in this chapter.
> 
> Ask yourself--what would you tell your family if you were in "an exciting new friendship" with a pony of the opposite sex? :-)


	5. The Wall Store

IN THE DAYS that followed, I still spent my work shifts thinking of the pony upstairs, but now my thoughts were scrambled.

On Tuesday evening, I found a big yellow envelope in my mailbox, wedged up against the sides. I pried it out and looked it over on my way upstairs. “For Pepper,” it said. There were colored stripes all up and down in it marker—no, in watercolors! And on the bottom, five cutie marks. Peach's, together with everyone's from Turtlewood Coffee, and one I hadn't seen before—an eye sprouting arrows both left and right.

My heart was already stirring when I opened the envelope. There were a letter and a drawing inside, and when I upended it, a clover fell into my hand. Followed by an extra clover leaf.

Once I'd made it to my apartment, I read the letter. It had five sections, each clearly written by a different pony. First was Peach's smooth hornwriting, in electric blue ink:

“Pepper! We missed you. I invited the gang from the coffee shop over and we were going to drop in and surprise you, but you weren't there. So we made this for you instead! Do you know about the stationery shop on Fulton? Kellydell took me there and we all got some things we needed.

I hope you enjoy the drawing! You remember Kellydell, Seaswell and George, don't you? The mare you didn't meet is called Second Sight. She's working in a lab for the New York Institute of Technology. They have her experimenting with remote detection. I hope you get to meet her soon! Is it okay if I come and see you Thursday?

—Peach Spark”

This was accompanied by a couple of glittery star-shaped stickers.

Then, in lavender gel and sharp, excited lettering:

“Hope work isn't being too hard on you! We missed you this time but I'm sure we'll meet again. Just to make sure, we've given you some extra luck! My amazing wife is always finding four-leafed clovers, and she found one in the little walking park near your building. It's enclosed! Sorry about one of the leaves falling off—you'll just have to take our word that it was a lucky clover to begin with!

—Sincerely, Seaswell”

In luscious green gel and a tight script:

“It was nice meeting you the other day, Pepper! Our regrets that you weren't in this time. We're getting to know Peach Spark, a pleasure we owe to you.

She seems to think there are secrets hidden in the human world that explain pony nature. I told her that sounds fairly out-there, but she's stalwart in her beliefs and I must respect that. Please tell her, though, that we're just neighbors with our own cultures and customs. Each of our civilizations is very much worth learning about, but the sort of arcane connections she's looking for simply aren't real. I expect she'll listen to you.

—Kellydell”

Then in soft pencil, with careful lettering:

“Hello, Mr. Pfeffer. I can only hope circumstance allows me to make a friend of you before my time on Earth is through. If I were as skilled as I someday hope to be, I would be able to reach out and determine whether you're having a nice afternoon. As it is, I can only wish you the best. For our part, we've been having a fine time about the town.

—A friend you haven't yet met, Second Sight.”

Creepy. And in maroon ink, in an otherwise small script with huge loops:

“Regards, Sergeant! I like your city. It's got an old feel, but not the sort of vibration that makes you think things are falling apart behind you as you walk through. I look forward to visiting the north end. I even hear you've got a neighborhood called Frog Hollow! Can't miss a place with a name like that. Thanks for treating our pretty Peach Spark right, by the by. I think she could use more time with you, if you're open to it. I intend to do my best by her, myself. Cheers!

—George”

And then the drawing, done on high quality paper with oil pastels. It was the five of them outside the apartment building, smiling in the sun while cars drove by. I could tell it was a collaboration. It looked like their cutie marks had each been etched out with something sharp, revealing another color of pigment underneath. Clever. The one that must have been Second Sight was a yellow-brown unicorn mare with purple hair.

I stared at the group for awhile, lounging in my beanbag chair. They'd drawn big tall toothy smiles on themselves. It looked like they'd known each other for a lifetime.

Ponies. Were they something, or what? They'd hoped to find me at home, and when they didn't, they'd apparently centered their whole afternoon around making a nice way to say hello to me anyway.

I set the letter aside and set the clover and its extra leaf floating in a little dish of water. I relaxed into my beanbag chair but didn't turn on the TV. Instead, I just I sat there thinking. Did I _deserve_ to have friends like this?

^~^ ^~^ ^~^ ^~^ ^~^

Wednesday morning, I left a note in Peach's box:

“Thanks for the great letter and drawing! I love it. It's good to know people care. I work tomorrow until 6:30, but I'd be happy to see you afterward.

—Pepper”

No word Wednesday night, but that was okay. When calling a unicorn, I told myself, you take your time. As I finished up my shift on Thursday, though, I wondered whether I should pick something up on the way home to share with her. And was there anything I could bring to help pass the time? I'd found the colorful envelope adorably childish, but I didn't think bringing over a cherished children's book would send _quite_ the right message. But did that matter? Was message important at all, compared to sharing the things that matter to you with your friends?

That's the sort of thing I was thinking as I put away my uniform, clocked out, and walked back through the garden center to head for home. What I did not expect was to see the very pony of my thoughts standing there by the azalea rack behind the registers, scanning the crowd, her peach coat contrasting with the dark windows behind her. Yet there she was! By the time I'd processed her presence, she'd spotted me and was cantering toward me with a huge smile.

“Pepper!” She reared up and I froze. Her hooves landed slowly on my chest. It was meant to be a hug, I realized a little too late, so I hugged her. But it was awkward. She dropped down and looked up at me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I wanted to see your garden store. It's amazing!”

I knew there were people watching us, but anything I did would make it worse. “It's pretty ordinary, really.”

She was surprised by that. She looked around and pointed toward a long row of shrubs leading up to the greenhouse. “Is _that_ ordinary? There must be a hundred of them.”

I smiled uncomfortably. “It's just volume. You know... if you have a lot of something for sale, you make more money.”

“So it's all about money?”

I paused and shrugged. This had gotten abstract fast. “Big stores usually are. Um, Peach, can we get out of here?”

She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

I smiled a little. “I just didn't expect to see you. I, um...” I struggled to find some way to say I didn't want to have to explain her to my coworkers.

“You're probably sick of being here after eight hours,” she said. “Want to go to a _different_ big store and help me pick out a TV?”

I hadn't expected that. “You're getting a TV?”

She grinned. “I got my first paycheck yesterday! I'm so excited.”

And just like that, I was excited too. This was excellent—I hadn't known what we'd be doing together. “Sure! I'd be glad to help you pick out a TV set.”

“It's a whole set?!”

I couldn't keep myself from chuckling. “Kind of! Did you have a place in mind? Because there's a Walmart at the other end of the shopping center.”

“Lead on,” she said, turning toward the doors. I found her faith in me touching.

I felt a lot better once we were striding across the parking lot, headlights piercing the dusk like jumbo-sized lightning bugs. “That letter you stuffed in my box was amazing,” I told her.

“Amazing? Really? I didn't think our art was _that_ good.”

“Heh. Well maybe not, but... it was a collaboration, right? You all drew yourselves?”

“Not exactly.” She chuckled, bobbing her head. “I actually drew George, and he drew Seaswell, and Seaswell painted the stripes on the envelope. Really, we all drew whatever we wanted. But we were working as a team.”

“And you spent basically your whole visit with them making it, didn't you?”

I wasn't sure under the big parking lot lights, but I thought I spotted a blush. “It was what we focused our afternoon on.”

“That's what makes it amazing,” I told her.

She beamed and walked in silence.

We were greeted by a chubby middle-aged black woman who seemed especially pleased at the chance to say “Hi, and welcome to Walmart!” to a pony.

Peach was delighted back, for her part. “Thanks, I'm glad to be here!” she said, rearing up to smile right in the greeter's face.

We went inside. “Just so you know,” I whispered to her, “the company that runs these stores is the biggest corporation in the world.”

“Wow,” she said, looking around. “I guess I'm not surprised. It's _huge!_ Is this place all about money, too?”

Again with the abstraction. I was tempted to say yes, but... “I don't know if a store is really _about_ anything, Spark.”

“Hm,” she acknowledged.

“But I don't think they're good for us. They hire cheap labor and buy products from overseas factories who hire even cheaper labor. And they drive local stores out of business.”

Peach didn't seem to understand. “What's wrong with cheap labor? Cheap is good.”

Was I really getting drawn into an economic discussion with a unicorn? I was no expert. “It means the people doing the work don't get paid enough to live on.”

She wrinkled her muzzle. “Then how do they get by?”

“Maybe some of them can live on it. The ones without families to raise, mainly. Others get help from the government. Food stamps, and that kind of thing.”

“Food... stamps?” I grimaced—I knew she was imagining people eating stamps for their nutritional content.

“You use them to buy food,” I explained. “We don't like to let anyone starve.”

Amazingly, this morbid downer of a discussion brought delight to her face. “So you really _do_ care!”

“About each other? Yeah. Yeah, we care. Maybe not enough, but we do care.” I got a cart and headed for Electronics.

Before she could reply, Peach was distracted by the home furnishings department. “Oh gosh, look at that, look at that!” She ran off to lie on an ottoman at the foot of a recliner, two items among dozens on display. “It's like five living rooms all in a row!”

I sighed and wheeled the cart over. “Yep. Go on, get it all out.”

She hooted and leapt into action. I watched as Peach ran about opening and closing cabinet doors, expanded an expandable desk, and tried out pretty much every chair in sight. There was a Walmart associate watching uneasily nearby, and when Peach started walking on a table, the associate finally started over. I sped over faster. “Off the table, Peach.”

She got off, somewhat chided, and the associate decided to let things go, seeing, I presume, that a human had the excited pony in hand. “Sorry. I guess that's not for walking on.”

“Yeah, no. Don't you have tables at home? And for that matter, furniture stores?”

She nestled herself in a big cozy chair. “Yeah, we do have a furniture store in Witherton. I guess it's about five living rooms at once, too, and a few bedrooms besides. But somehow...” She peered around. “Somehow this place is more exciting. I mean... the ceiling's higher... and there's all that extra furniture in boxes, just waiting for someone to need it! I mean, don't you feel the excitement?”

I tried to gauge how I felt. Honestly, I was jaded by places like this. “That's kind of what the big box stores do. They try to thrill you with volume. Warehouse stores, even more.”

“Are you saying they're trying to trick me?” asked Peach.

“Well... not directly? Look.” I sat down in a chair opposite her. “Any time you go into a store, or pass by a storefront, or even look at an ad, _someone's_ trying to trick you. They're trying to get you to spend your money on something you might not have spent it on otherwise, by making it sound more exciting than it really is.”

She frowned, hurt. “So it's all a trick?” She hopped out of the chair and gestured around her. “All this is just a trick??”

“You might say that. I mean really, it's just retail. That's the way it is. You get stuff cheap, but there's a price to society. Every now and then, the legislature tries to ban stores like this from the state. But it never works—they're just too useful.”

Now Peach looked confused. “It's so complicated.”

“I've barely scratched the surface.”

“All this furniture is so tall.”

I laughed. “Your legs aren't long enough.”

She went over and patted the ottoman. “I kind of like this one, though. It seems kind of pony-friendly. I mean, I can't imagine a human lying on it.”

“I could sit on it... but really, it's more of a foot rest.”

“A what? A foot rest? Wait. You mean you stand on it?”

I grinned. “You sit in a chair, like this, and put your feet on it, like this.” I demonstrated.

She stared at me. “That's so _weird!_ ” she exclaimed happily. Then she checked the price tag. “I can afford this. I think I might want it! It'd be like an enigma in my living space.”

If that was how she wanted to think of it, I wouldn't stop her. “Well, the question is, can we get it back home on the bus along with a TV set? Can you carry it?”

Blue magic gathered around the ottoman, and that same floor associate looked nervous again. I guess she was afraid to offend a pony customer. The ottoman rose a foot or so before Peach had to set it down. “I'm a lot better with small stuff,” she admitted, embarrassed.

“Let's get that TV,” I suggested. “We can make another trip for this thing some other time.”

“Okay,” Peach agreed, following me back toward Electronics. “Besides, I have to save some money for my big shopping tour with Kellydell! We're doing it Saturday.”

“Sounds exciting! Any idea what you're gonna get?”

“Well, probably a bunch of clothes! And maybe jewelry. I guess we'll have to make sure it's nothing we can't carry back.”

I found myself hoping Kellydell knew what she was doing. “Just make sure you keep enough money to make rent,” I advised.

“Oh, I will.” Suddenly, Peach looked up at me. “I must seem pretty naïve, huh? Running around like that, excited about all this stuff you're used to?”

“Yeah, a little.” And if I was being honest, I might as well go all in. “I admit, when you were doing that, I found myself asking... 'How did I get myself into this?'” At that, her eyes got a little teary, and I went on. “But then I realized... the corners of my mouth were up, and I was happy. I'm really glad you're my friend, Sparky.”

She grinned and gave me a quick hug around the waist. “You're not so shabby yourself. Want to know what the dumb little filly in me was thinking?”

I wasn't so sure. “If it's not too embarrassing.”

“I was thinking... What do you guys need fantasies for, if you've got all this stuff?”

Whoa. “Really?”

“Yeah. Pretty dumb, huh?”

“Because stuff isn't everything?” I asked.

“Yeah. I _know_ stuff isn't everything. But in the heat of the moment...”

“It tricked you, didn't it?”

She winked. “Yeah. Your big Wall store tricked me.” That's when we reached Electronics and were faced with a massive wall of television sets. “Oh, Celestia!” Peach exclaimed. “They're in color! They're all in color!”

I hurried to keep up. “You were expecting black and white?”

“I dunno, I guess I wasn't thinking about it. The closest we have back home is black and white movies, and Witherton doesn't even have a theater.” She looked hopefully at me. “Do you think we could get them to play the show?”

The show. Coming from a pony's mouth, anyone would know what that meant.

^~^ ^~^ ^~^ ^~^ ^~^

They were willing, all right. TVs were big ticket items, and the sales team was willing to cater in order to make a sale. Without asking her outright, the first man to talk to Peach made sure she actually had money. Once that was established, they treated her like a big fish wiggling on a hook. They told her the advantages of plasma, widescreen, HD and so on, and she ate it all up, trusting everything. It was as if the very idea of being taken advantage of didn't cross her mind.

We stood together, watching an episode from the second season filled with lava, a dismal rocky landscape and a yellow sky. I could feel Peach quivering at one point in sympathy for poor little Spike, a baby dragon trying desperately to prove his worth among much larger teenagers. I'd forgotten how good this episode was. Off to the side, Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash and Rarity watched over Spike in a gaudy costume, trying to pass themselves off as a grown dragon, and somehow succeeding.

Peach snerked beside me. “That costume is ridiculous!”

I couldn't help laughing with her. “It sure is!” Yet something occurred to me. “But isn't it weird you think so? I mean... I mean, all this really happened, right?”

She spared me her attention. “Of course! Everything on the show really happened. Those dragons really did play Lava Cannonball with Spike, and he really did tail-wrestle his friends in a stupid costume.”

“And the gang fell for it, because the costume just happened to look exactly like some developmentally stunted dragon called Crackle.”

“They did! It's amazing what people will believe if they don't know they should be skeptical.”

“And yet... and yet... I mean, if that kind of thing can happen in Equestria, how can _you_ think their costume is ridiculous?”

Peach gave me an odd look. “Well, it is!”

“Then how did it fool anyone?”

She sighed. “Look, Pepper.” I waited while she gathered her thoughts. “The stars of the show... the Mane Six. They're not typical. You know that, right?”

I had to confess I hadn't thought of it. “Well, yeah, I guess. They're heroes.”

“They're heroes,” agreed Peach. “And they're completely bonkers.” She chuckled nervously. “I mean, some of the time they're all heroic with their unique and wonderful qualities, and at other times, they just lose their minds. Remember that time Pinkie went crazy just because no one came to one of her parties? Or the time Applejack kept checking in on her little sister every five minutes because she was terrified she'd break something?”

I was hardly paying attention to the TV anymore. “Yeah?”

“Well, we're not all _like_ that!” pressed Peach. “I've never met Twilight or any of the rest of them, and I've never been to Ponyville. And I mean, we've got our eccentrics in Witherton and in Long Hedge, but not like _them_. Most of us are actually... you know, stable!”

“I didn't mean to offend you,” I said.

“You didn't! I just... I want you to know.”

We watched Spike being inducted as a true dragon. Soon, he'd be forced to make a moral decision—stick with his new gang, or protect innocent phoenixes from predation. “I guess it makes sense. You don't make documentaries about ordinary, everyday people. Or sitcoms either, for that matter.”

“Exactly!” agreed Peach. “Well, you can... but our world isn't one of those shows! I mean, I guess I'm saying...” She had to sit and think for a while before she knew what she was saying, though, so I sat down on the floor next to her until she did.

“We're only as weird as we had to be,” said Peach.

I looked at her, puzzled.

“You made this kids' show with all these crazy adventures, these main characters who represent extreme ideas like Loyalty and Generosity and who do crazy things... and we're the world you got to go with it. Yes, we've got all that wacky stuff... magic potions and dragons and breezies and... and supervillains... and...” She looked at her own rear. “...And cutie marks.”

“There's nothing wacky about cutie marks,” I interrupted.

“You know what I mean,” she pressed, although I'm not sure I did. “We've got all this wild stuff, yes, it's all real... but...” The look she gave me was almost contrite. “...We're about as normal as we can possibly be, considering.”

I felt like I was in the presence of something profound, but I just couldn't get it through my thick skull. Instead, I did my best. I hugged her. I sat there on the vinyl Walmart floor and I hugged my unicorn friend. And the salespeople let us be. The show came to an end, and the demo reel resumed, and they left us alone. I saw a tear in Peach's eye, and I wanted to wipe it away. Instead, I patted her shoulder in reassurance.

^~^ ^~^ ^~^ ^~^ ^~^

We ended up getting both a TV and a notebook computer. Peach really wanted a nice television set, since she saw it as a major part of the puzzle she was trying to solve. She needed to understand television if she was going to understand what she and her people were meant to be, and I respected that even if I didn't quite agree with her metaphysics. I suggested that if she got an internet connection and an HDMI adapter, she could stream net content onto her TV, and she went for it. Her paycheck hadn't been big enough to get it all at once, though, let alone save money for shopping with Kellydell, so I charged the TV to my credit card. Peach promised to pay me back.

“They're really nice here,” she remarked as we headed outside. “They didn't get tired of me asking questions, and they gave a lot of really helpful suggestions! Best of all, even though we didn't have enough money to pay for it all today, they're happy enough to just tell a plastic card that we owe them the rest! I know you have issues with them, Pepper, but I love the Wall Store.”

“It's Walmart,” I corrected. “And that plastic card isn't really a risk for them. I mean, they got their money—it's the credit card people we owe now.”

“Really? I don't know. I'm just bowled over, Pepper! There's so many people happy to loan us money that we haven't even met!”

“And that doesn't seem dangerous to you?”

“Dangerous?” Peach wrinkled her nose, levitating the computer out the sliding doors. “How can being nice to people be dangerous?”

I hefted the box containing the TV set from the cart and walked after her. “If you keep offering loans to people, they may borrow more than they can afford to pay. And then they get clobbered paying interest.”

“Right, I understand what interest is, I think. But that's just the choice you make when you take the loan! If it's not a good idea, you can just say no, right?”

I grunted. “Yeah, in theory. But people do get exploited, Sparky.”

She walked thoughtfully, looking around the dark parking lot. The computer she was holding bobbed erratically in the air.

“Look,” I said. “These are heavy, and they're obviously brand new and expensive. I don't want to take them home on the bus. Can we get a cab?”

“A cab? But what's wrong with the bus? We can put them down once we get on.”

“Someone could steal them,” I said sharply.

I guess I stunned her out of her reverie. Put things in perspective. “Oh. That's a big thing, here?”

I shrugged. “We're kind of asking for it,” I said.

She dipped her head for a moment, but eventually looked up. “Fine,” she decided. “I'll pay. I only rode once in a cab before, and never with a friend! This'll be fun.”

I put down the TV and stooped to cuddle her supportively. I wanted to say I was sorry for everything cynical I'd said that night—for every sliver of doubt in humanity I'd had the gall to instill in her. Instead, I just smiled a broad smile and told her, “Yeah. It'll be fun. Let's do it.”

But it was a quiet ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> So, I wrote this story to fill a gap in what I'd seen out there. It turns out there is another story not too unlike mine out there, which you'll know if you've been following the comments: Pillow Case, by BG! It's told from a pony's point of view, not a human's, and it's set longer after first contact, and in a world where the show My Little Pony apparently doesn't exist. But like my story, it's about a young mare with a two-word ten-letter name beginning with P from a small Equestrian town struggling to find a place for herself alongside humans in a major U.S. metropolitan area. And like my story, it's currently incomplete with five chapters posted. I hope to see more soon, BG!
> 
> Since my last question worked pretty well, here's another one to consider: If you could have one pony penpal to exchange drawings and letters with, who would it be, and what sort of things would you talk about?


	6. Make-Believe

ANOTHER FRIDAY NIGHT and there I was at home, waiting for my soup to cook and stirring occasionally. My friend Laurie, who'd helped me get hired by the garden center and skedaddled a year later, had just picked up her phone.  
“Hey, Laurie,” I said.

"Ron? Been a while."

"Yeah. I guess it has."

"You all right?" she asked.

Of course, Laurie was the type to ask. Even so, it felt a little strange she was assuming something was wrong just because I called.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” I let my voice betray a little happiness. “I was just wondering... you know where all the best produce is, right?"

"Uhhhh... I guess so?"

"I mean, I know you're a locavore, you're all into eating locally. Locavorishly."

Making fun of the word was a little joke between us. "Yeaahh?" she prompted.

“Well... so, peaches are a local crop, right? I mean, you eat them, don't you?”

There was a little pause, if as she was trying to decide whether she could make fun of me even more. “Yeeaaaahh?”

“So... where do you get them?”

“If I can, farmers' markets. But a lot of the time they don't have 'em. Usually I'll get 'em from my normal places.”

“Where's that?”

She named a few stores I could try--a couple small markets and a suggestion to try the organics section at a chain or two. "Look for '100% Organic', not just the word 'organic'. And if the fuzz is still on 'em, so much the better--just wash before you eat 'em. But you know, I think it might still be early for peaches. I think they're a late summer crop.”

And it was early June. I wondered if she could hear my face falling. “So I've got to wait another month if I want them fresh? Two months?”

“You could probably get, like, Carolina peaches right now. And they'd probably be reasonably fresh. But you know, locavorism isn't just about freshness, Ron. It's about sustainability."

"Right," I said, willing to hear a lecture if Laurie felt like giving one. It was nice to hear her voice.

"No matter how you transport food, it takes a toll on the environment," she continued. “And then there's pesticides.”

"Right, sure.”

I could tell she wanted to go on, but my agreeability was making it tough for her. "What do you need 'em for, anyway?"

"A friend of mine. She's from a warmer climate and doesn't like the supermarket peaches that much. I was just wondering if we could do any better."

"Huh! Well that's interesting. I assume it's no one I know?"

"Nah, she's a new friend."

"What's her name?"

I blushed. "Peach."

After a moment, Laurie chuckled nervously. "Reeeally."

"Mm-hm."

"She's named Peach and she wants better peaches."

"Yeah, well. It's more like I want to surprise her with them."

"Ahhh. You mean, because of her name? Sort of, a personalized produce kind of thing?"

"Basically," I answered, and I knew she could hear my embarrassment.

"Well that's cute. Which warm climate is she from, anyway?"

Oops. I'd hoped she wouldn't ask. "Equestria."

Yeah, that was a long pause.

"Well, I guess that explains the name," she finally said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

More silence. I stirred the soup.

"You know, I would make an exception for Equestrian produce," said Laurie. "I would _love_ to taste an Equestrian apple, or a peach, sure. Anything."

"But they don't let it through, do they?"

"Nope. Nada. Fears of cross-contamination, which, frankly, are totally reasonable. That's another thing you have to worry about when you import most of your produce."

"Are they worried about our fruit going magical?"

"Maybe. Sure, wouldn't you worry? It sounds like a joke, but who knows what might happen if—" She cut herself off. "Ron, are you sweet on her?"

First Noam, and now Laurie. I'd thought that, just maybe, talking about produce would distract her, but... "Not really, no. I just really care about her."

"Well that's wonderful. Does she care about you?"

"I think so. Yeah, definitely."

"That's great, Ron. Am I gonna meet her?"

I hadn't even thought of that. "Sure, if you want to. You want to come to my place, or..."

"Oh, come to our place. It's bigger, and we can make dinner." Laurie and her boyfriend Jack lived in a townhouse.

"You sure Jack'll be okay with it?" He was the one person I knew who'd had the biggest trouble accepting the reality of a fictional world back when it had first hit the news. He cracked jokes about ponies like some people make jokes about God. Uncomfortably.

"He's always chill with new friends."

"Well, if you say so. Weekends still good for you?"

"Yeah. Why don'tcha check with Peach and let me know when you can come. It'll be good to see you again."

"Will do. And I think I will wait for summer before getting those peaches."

"Okay. And Ron?"

"Mm?"

"Be careful, all right?"

I was about to say sure, but then I wondered why she was asking. "Be careful?"

"Yeah. Just in case."

"Just in case what?"

"I don't know, okay? I'm just a little worried about you. You stop calling, and then suddenly when I hear from you, you're trying to find the best way to a pony's heart?"

"Are you worried about cross-contamination?" I joked.

"Of course not."

"You're worried I might go all magical."

"I don't even know what that means."

"Neither do I, really.” I stirred the soup. “All right, Laurie. I'll ask Peach if she wants to do dinner and I'll let you know."

"...Okay, Ron. Take care, though."

"Okay. I will."

"Talk to you later."

"G'bye."

Be careful of what? I wondered. Take care of what? What exactly was she worried would happen to me?

 

* * *

  


**W** hen I knocked on the door, I heard scrambling. That's one little difference about humans and ponies that you don't think of at first. When they scramble, you can always hear it. It's hard not to make noise with four hooves on the floor, and it was hard for me not to think of it as cute. So I indulged and grinned.

“Pepper?” she called from inside.

“Yep! You don't mind a surprise visit, do you?”

“Nope! One moment!”

I knew why she didn't open the door right away—she was turning off the television. When she did open it, she leapt right up on me, just like at the garden center. This time I didn't hesitate to hug her.

“How's it going, Peach?” In the moment after I asked, I regretted it. She was smiling, but there were lines under her eyes—she'd been crying.

“I'm all right. I've been watching stuff. And surfing the superhighway.”

“The information superhighway?”

“Yeah, that one.” She lowered herself delicately. “C'mon in.”

I saw boxes on the floor, stuffed with packaging. We'd set up the television and the computer together, and she still hadn't thrown out the packaging—just in case she wanted to return them, I guessed. I also saw something else I hadn't expected, covered with electronics.

“You went back and got the ottoman!” I observed.

“Yeah.” She sat bashfully. “I figured I couldn't ask you to take me there twice, so I got Seaswell to help me.”

I pictured this for a moment. “You mean this piece of furniture flew through the sky on a chariot to get here?”

“Yep!” she answered proudly. “We weren't able to get it in through the window, though. It was just too awkward, so we had to take the elevator.”

It was so strange, thinking about how much trouble this thing I could easily lift had been for two ponies to transport. A typical pony could pull a pretty heavy cart, but couldn't easily _carry_ anything larger than a book... unless they were a pegasus, in which case it was ridiculous how much weight they could haul by air. I'd read a column about pegasus physics that still boggled me.

I cleared a space on one side of the ottoman—it was cluttered with odds and ends, including a circuit board. “You could have called me, you know. I wouldn't have minded.”

She looked sorry. “Kellydell said her husband would be happy to help, so.” She shrugged.

“Oh yeah! Saturday was your big shopping tour with Kellydell, wasn't it?”

Instantly, Peach perked up. “Yep! SoHo and the East Village!”

“Not Staten Island?”

“She said it was too big to cover if we wanted to do anything else. So we're saving that for my next paycheck.”

A twinge of apprehension. “You'll be paying me back for the television, though.”

“Oh, well yeah! But you said it was okay if it was in installations, right?”

“If it has to be... but it's on my Discover card. I'm paying interest.”

She frowned. I immediately felt like a miser. “Is interest that important?” she asked.

I sighed. “Well, if you want to cover it, it's up to you. But you should watch your money, Peach. Are you planning to go shopping with Kellydell in every neighborhood in New York?”

“Well not every neighborhood,” she admitted, looking down at her remote control. “We probably aren't going to bother with Queens. And we're just going to window shop through Madison Avenue.”

“Even so, can you really afford it?”

“It's not just for stuff,” she said, looking up. “And it's not just for me. It's for Kelly! She needs feedback so she can fine-tune her tours.”

It was interesting, I thought, that she'd answered a question about affordability with an statement about helping others.

“Fine,” I said, stretching my legs. “How were SoHo and the East Village?”

“Fantastic,” she replied. “I loved the atmosphere! Kellydell told me all about how they've changed, the bohemian parts and the gentrified parts, and it was fascinating. We barely have this kind of thing in Equestria!”

“What kind of thing? Bohemians and gentrification?”

“Yeah, basically! I mean, I guess Manehattan is pretty much—” But her line of thought disturbed her, so she changed tack. “You want to see what I got?”

“Of course!”

“Then give me a few minutes to dress, and I'll give you a fashion show!”

I grinned. “Absolutely.”

Peach dashed off to the closet, and I wondered how she was going to change privately in her studio apartment, until I remembered that she wasn't wearing any clothes to begin with. Yet I still felt the need not to watch while she was dressing herself. Ponies were weird!

Heh. No, clothes were weird.

I glanced at the TV and was startled for a moment. Then I chortled. I chortled again, louder, and Peach couldn't help but notice. “What are you laughing at?” she asked from across the room.

“You're watching Mister Rogers!” There he was, on pause, holding up a picture of a French horn for the audience. Sweater and all.

“Oh yeah!” She laughed too. “That guy's great. I wish I were his neighbor.”

I hadn't intended to look at Peach while she was dressing, but now I had to sneak a peek. I caught her with one sleeve on, beaming with admiring eyes. It was worth it. I looked back at the TV.

“You've been watching a lot of his show?”

“I found a website with all the episodes,” she said. “Is he any relation to Amy Keating?”

“Huh?” That took me a moment. “Oh. No, I'm pretty sure not.”

“Ah, too bad. I was hoping. But yeah, I've been marathoning them. I've got to say, I kind of needed it.”

Uh oh. “Yeah? How come?”

“Eh,” she answered, trying to be nonchalant about whatever had made her cry. “Just stuff on the internet. Stuff made by you guys about ponies. Music videos. Stories about the princesses. Comics. Pictures.” She heaved a breath.

“Oh, gosh. Anything bad?”

“Not really! I mean, yeah. I don't know if it was bad or good, Pepper. It's just weird. It's all _so_ weird.”

“I know. I know. It's weird for us, too.”

“I was gonna take it slow! But I got carried away.” She sighed. “Anyway, it's gonna be a lot to sort out, you know? I can only take so much at once.”

“Absolutely, take it slow. I can help, if you want. I wasn't part of the fandom, but I might be able to give context.”

“I appreciate it,” she said through tears starting to form. “So, anyway, that's when I started watching House of Cards.”

Oh god. “That Netflix show about corrupt politicians?”

There was a tiny pause. “I guess?”

“You guess?”

“Is that what it is? Corrupt politicians? So... they're meant to be worse than average?”

My stomach tightened. “Yeah. Yes, Peach, our politicians are not that bad. Well okay, some of them are. But... well, look, I haven't seen the show, but I know it plays up the corruption.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Her question caught me off guard. “For drama! For... excitement. To tell an exciting story.”

“Is that really what drama means to you? You can't have excitement without people betraying and framing each other?”

“Peach...”

“The main character is so charming, he can win anyone over. But he's the worst of the bunch!”

“It's just a TV show, Peach! It's meant to get a reaction. If you don't like how it makes you feel, you shouldn't have kept watching!”

I heard her clopping over to me. “But I have to watch, Pepper,” she said softly over my shoulder. “This is what I'm here for. I have to understand.”

I turned around. She was wearing a green long-sleeved V-necked shirt, a purple flowing skirt, and a flashy silver sash. The colors and fabrics seemed to work okay together, but the fit wasn't great. I looked her over for a while until she slinked back nervously.

“Peach... those aren't pony clothes, are they?”

She spoke meekly. “Not exactly. There's only a couple boutiques with pony sizes so far, and one's in Midtown and the other's in Brooklyn. Then there are tailors, but we didn't have time for them, so Kelly helped me find some clothes that fit okay even if they were made for women.”

I sighed. “Well, they do look good on you, considering. But do you really _need_ clothes?”

“No,” she squeaked. “But I... I want them...”

“I'm sorry,” I hastened to say. “No, of course. If you want clothes, you should have them. And for that matter, if you want to watch human beings being our worst to each other on TV, you can do that too.”

She adjusted her shirt at the shoulder and pointed to the television. “After a while, I found this guy. Can we watch for a while? You and me?”

I'd wanted to hug her, but this was even better. I made space on the ottoman for her and sat down on the floor beside her once she'd settled in. Soon we were safe in Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.

We didn't talk at first. I learned over and draped my arm over her, wondering if it was too much. She snuggled into it, so I knew it wasn't.

Eventually, Mister Rogers went to a pencil factory. “It's amazing, seeing how you humans make things,” observed Peach. “So many big machines, working all on their own. And yet, you say there's no magic going on.”

I reflected. “I wouldn't expect to hear that from you, of all ponies.”

“How come?”

“You work with electricity. It's right there in your cutie mark. You know what kinds of things it's capable of.”

“Yeah, but—”

She didn't finish.

“But what?”

She stirred beside me and took a deep breath. “I'm not so sure electricity isn't magic.”

I looked at her. She'd taken off her clothing—all that was left was an electric blue anklet on her hind leg that matched the spark in her cutie mark, which I hadn't seen when she'd had the skirt on. Funny how I'd hardly even noticed her undressing. The girl I'm watching TV with takes off all her clothes, and I don't even look over. Does that mean I'm hopeless, or that I don't think of her as a girl, after all?

“Really?” I asked.

“I know you know the science behind it. I know some of it myself. Electrons pass from one valence shell to the next because of electromagnetic force. That makes current happen. But does anyone really know why electromagnetism happens?”

“Beats me,” I admitted. On the screen before us, pencils all but assembled themselves neatly into boxes. “It's the same force that makes light, I think.”

“Yeah, that's what Second Sight said. It propagates in a vacuum. But they call it a fundamental force because no one really knows why it happens. They can say _how_ but they don't know _why_.”

“So you think electromagnetism could be magic?”

“I don't think so. I mean, it's in everything. If it's magic, does that mean everything's magic?”

“That'd definitely be confusing.”

“Exactly. No... electromagnetism isn't magic. But I think maybe when we use it for our own machines, we're _doing_ magic.”

I withdrew my arm, unconsciously stroking her coat as I did. She didn't seem to mind. “How so? I mean, we're just using little effects and building them into something bigger.”

“You say that like it's nothing. Isn't that what thinking is? Isn't that what imagination is?”

“I don't get it. What if it is?”

I felt Peach's hoof on my shoulder. “Magic is about imagination,” she told me.

This was getting heavy enough that I wanted to pause the show. I would have, except it was at that moment the little red trolley started chugging, and we were drawn off into the land of make-believe. The timing was too perfect to stop watching. “It is?”

She pushed my shoulder a little. “Don't you know that?”

I took her ankle in my hand. “No. I didn't.”

“Magic is about what you want to happen! It's about taking your imagination and making it real.”

“So... when you levitate something, it's because what you imagine is for that thing to be off the ground?”

“Sure, basically.”

I smiled. “That's an awfully specific thing to be imagining all the time!”

With a blue glow, the fingers of my hand opened up, freeing her ankle. I could have resisted, but didn't choose to. “I'm not that good at levitation, you know,” said Peach. “My real magical talent is shaping things.”

Well, this was getting exciting. “Shaping things?”

“Yeah. Like metal. Or silicone. Making things flow the right way. And I'm a lot better with small stuff than anything big.”

The way she said that made me shiver—for a moment, I wondered if I was getting turned on. “Like circuit boards.”

“For example. But I can do art! I can draw a picture on a grain of rice. I used to sell those back home!”

I grinned. “I'd love to see that.”

She got up. “Let's do it. I've got rice in the cupboard.”

I went straight to the cupboards. When I saw a blue aura opening one of them, I reached up and pushed it shut on a lark.

“Hey!” Her magic fought me, but my muscles won. I glanced down to see Peach looking miffed.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if I could!”

Her expression broke. “You don't fight a unicorn's magic!” she laughed.

“I wasn't really fighting,” I explained. “Just testing.”

There was a pregnant silence. Then Peach widened her stance and tried again to open the cupboard. I sprang for it, but she managed to squeeze the box of rice through the crack. We both laughed awkwardly, not at the same time.

Triumphantly, Peach strode forward and placed a grain of rice on a cutting board. “Well, don't fight this. What picture do you want?”

I glanced at the television. “How about King Friday and Queen Sara, in their castle?”

“Perfect.”

I watched Peach Spark in awe as she labored, deep in concentration. Her horn glowed, as did and the grain of rice. I I saw her magic swirl, but the grain didn't seem to move.

“Kings and queens,” she muttered. “That's the sort of thing you like to make believe about, isn't it?”

“Mm, I guess. We have them in a lot of our fairy tales.”

As she worked, I could see tiny flecks of orange appearing amid the blue. “But you have them in real life too, don't you?”

“Some countries, yeah. But not the kind you get in stories.” Only then did I realize what she was probably driving at, and I regretted what I'd said.

“Princesses are even better, right?” she asked, still concentrating on the grain of rice.

I was silent at first. “Yeah,” I whispered.

She looked at the television for a moment, where King Friday was telling Daniel the tiger that because clocks were no longer allowed in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, he would have to find a new home. Then she resumed her work silently.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” I admitted.

“Just wondering if you guys are jealous of our princesses,” she replied.

I wasn't sure what to say. “I guess a lot of people dream of benevolent monarchs. I mean, monarchs with absolute power, not like the ones today. But it's risky. I mean, we used to have kings and queens like that, but if they aren't benevolent—if they're even just badly advised, it can spell disaster.” She only glanced up for half a second. “Nowadays,” I went on, “if someone has absolute power, we call them a dictator. And we try to take it from them.”

“That's interesting,” said Peach. “You wish you were better people, huh?”

I shrugged. “Who doesn't?”

She created one last little orange spark, then looked up. “Done.” Her magic retrieved a big magnifying glass from one of her shelves, which she floated over to me. I took a look at the grain of rice.

It was etched with a line drawing, all right. The faces were crude, but there were the king and queen, and there were the lines of their tower, with the familiar “XIII” beneath. It was amazing how fine those lines had to be. “Wow.”

“You like it? I ought to know what they look like by now, I've seen like a dozen episodes.”

I sat up and looked at her in bewilderment. “That's some talent! I can't get my head around how you keep track of all those tiny lines.”

“That's what I'm talking about, Pepper! I _wanted_ the rice to look like that, so I just made what was in my head real. That's magic for you! And that's what your big machines do, too. You want pencils? They make pencils for you. You want paper clips or pants or radios or pretzels or roller skates? They'll make those, too. And you say a machine that can do all that isn't magic?”

I put down the magnifying glass. “Is it magic if I take one of those pencils and draw a picture?”

She stared at me.

“Seriously, Sparky. Is that magic?”

She sighed. “I don't know. Maybe it is, in some small way.”

A piece of me still couldn't believe I was having this conversation with a unicorn. “You don't really know what magic is, do you?”

Peach spread her forelegs. “I used to! But things have changed.”

Licking my lip, I picked up the cutting board with the carved grain of rice and set it on the counter.

“Keep it,” said Peach. “It's yours! A gift from me to you.”

I grinned. “Really? Thanks. I'll think of you whenever I see it.”

“You want to watch another episode?” asked Peach, swishing her tail at the television.

I glanced at the clock. “I should actually be going. It's late, and I didn't mean to stay too long.”

“Awww. When will I see you again?”

It felt odd, but good. She'd never asked that before while we were together—we'd both just trusted to notes and fate. Fortunately, I had a good answer. “Well, as it happens, I told my friend Laurie about you. She's interested in having us over for dinner. She and her boyfriend Jack will host, and she's a good cook. Are you interested?”

Peach brightened and stood taller. “Of course! It would be great to meet your friends.”

“I was thinking a week from Sunday?”

A little frown. “I hope we'll get together again before that.”

My heart melted. “Then let's count on it.” I wanted to suggest something for us to do, something more exciting than just another evening in. Bowling? Instantly I pictured a pony with a bowling bowl stuck over its hoof, looking put out. But then I remembered the Bowling Dolls from Season Two and realized that ponies actually did go bowling. Still, would that be the kind of thing Peach would enjoy? Or would it seem like I was trying too hard?

It seemed like Peach was also struggling for something to suggest. Were we making this too hard? Should we just keep visiting each other in the evenings after work, or whenever we both had the day off? Given how much there still was to learn about each other, would that be enough to keep things fresh?

I was spared. From the television floated the unpolished but reassuring notes of Mister Rogers' opening theme song:

“It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood; a beautiful day for a neighbor!”

Before the first verse was done, I was half-singing along, gesturing to Peach and hamming it up:

“Would you be mine? Could you be mine?”

She grinned and chuckled. Sitting down and stretching tall, she sang:

“It's a neighborly day in this beautywood; a neighborly day for a beauty! Would you be mine? Could you be mine?”

Now I was grinning too. “I've always wanted to have a neighbor just like you.” I held out my hand gracefully. “I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood... with you!”

She hesitated at first, but then plopped her hoof into my hand. “So let's make the most of this beautiful day!”

I lowered myself slowly to one knee. “Since we're together... we might as well say...”

We looked into each others' faces, trying to mutually fight off the giggles as we sang together:

“Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won't you be... my neighbor?”

I released her hoof and straightened up. “Won't you please?”

She gazed up plaintively at me. “Won't you please?”

I met her eyes as we finished together: “Please won't you be... my neighbor?”

Somehow, that had made everything all right. I couldn't remember what I'd been fretting over before. “I'll see you, Sparky.”

“See you soon, Pepper.” Neither of us could get the smiles off our faces.

It was a good note to leave on, so I went for the door. I gave her a little wave as I left. “Enjoy the show!”

“Oh I will,” she replied.

As I took to the hallway, I marveled at what had just happened. What had all _that_ been? Had that been a pinch of whatever magic made Equestrians occasionally break out in song? Did ponies bring it with them?

No—I preferred to think it had just been a particularly inspired, particularly _harmonious_ moment between the two of us. But what did it mean? Were we in a romance now? I'd knelt on the floor and taken her hoof in my hand—how could that be anything _but_ romance? And yet, we hadn't been singing about that kind of relationship at all—just about being neighbors.

The truth was, just being neighbors with a real life pony was exciting enough.

As I returned to my apartment, my mind turned to a fantasy. The president stood before Princess Celestia, awkwardly singing “It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” to her while she waited patiently on a pillow. And when he was finished, she nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Absolutely, Mr. President. The ponies of Equestria would love to be your neighbors.”

“Then we have a deal,” said the president, offering his hand.

“We have a deal,” said Celestia, shaking it.

It was a fantasy I would revisit many times that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> [Edited to add: This chapter's beginning has been revised. I didn't realize peaches were a New Jersey crop when I wrote it, but it works even better that way!]
> 
> Well, this was an enjoyable chapter to research!
> 
> An earlier version was tenser, without as many happy moments and with a different ending. A friend pre-read it and had his own impressions of the direction things are going between the main characters in this chapter, but said he would be very interested to see how others felt about it. What do you think?
> 
> I guess I'm not writing every third chapter in the present tense. Maybe I'll go back and change Chapter 3 to past tense eventually. We'll see.
> 
> Here's your question for this chapter: What television show would you most enjoy watching with a pony friend?


	7. Kale and Marshmallows

AFTER THAT WEIRD, beautiful night, I genuinely started to wonder whether I should tell people I had a girlfriend. How often do you just break out into song with someone? How could it _not_ mean something? Or is that just what you get for hanging out with ponies?

All through work the next day, I played through the potential conversation with my mother over and over, trying to gauge the chance that my girlfriend's species would come up and how she would react if it did. I thought of asking Laurie whether she thought Peach and I were a unit now based on available evidence, but decided Laurie and I didn't have quite that kind of friendship. I also considered asking Peach herself, but I was afraid of what answer I might hear. I wasn't even sure whether I was more afraid of a 'yes' or a 'no'.

Like a shy kid waiting for a 'Do you like me' note back, I came home Saturday afternoon hoping for a note in my mailbox. Well, I got one, and a flier besides!

The flier was black ink on yellow and looked home-printed. "PONY FIELD TRIP", it proclaimed in a highly stylized font, flanked by pictures of a picket fence. Below were illustrations of pony heads―actual pony heads, I meant―no―god, it was confusing thinking about things these days. Miniature horses. What we used to call ponies. Fine-lined digital illustrations of heads with long muzzles and small, whiteless eyes.

"Curious what the word 'pony' used to mean? Join Red Rover and Uncle Clyde on Sunday, June 10th for a visit to Markowski Ranch in spacious Colts Neck, NJ. Rancher Janine Markowski will give a tour of this working ranch oriented toward pony guests. (Humans welcome too!) Followed by dinner near the shore at Red Bank's Siam Garden, or wander on your own and meet up later. $20 a head.” Below, it gave a phone number for reservations and directions for where to board the bus.

Paperclipped to it was a note from Peach. ''Red Rover was one of the first ponies on Earth! He's a vice president in Kellydell's touring company. I have to see Terran ponies, Pepper! Kellydell doesn't want to come, but George will. Will you come too?”

'Terran ponies' was another term for what we used to call just 'ponies'. The technical equivalent of 'Terran' was 'Fimmish'--from the initials of 'Friendship is Magic'--but normally people just used 'Equestrian', even though Equestria was only a part of FiMland.

So. Wow. This was tomorrow. I had the day off, though, and I had to admit it did sound fun. And I had been looking for something to do with Peach outside our apartments. The only thing that made me anxious was the prospect of being one of the only humans in a group of ponies. But as soon as I'd thought it, I grinned. Would that really be so terrible?

I went up to 412 and knocked. It would've felt better if I'd had a bouquet for her or something, but I couldn't bring surprises _all_ the time. Just being there was enough, I hoped.

There was fumbling and clunking fom inside. Then silence. Then there was an open door and a smiling unicorn. “Pepper!”

“Sparky! How'd you know it was me?”

“I used the peephole!” She pointed to it. “But no one else ever visits, anyway, except Seaswell, and he comes to the window! The super came by a couple times, but I think he's satisfied that I'm settled in.”

I smiled. “And are you?”

Behind her, I saw what looked something like a fancy erector set, pieces lying everywhere. Girders and bolts and wheels... but I also recognized magnets of various shapes. There was a half-built structure in the middle.

“I'm doing all right,” said Peach hopefully. “Want to come in?”

I did. “I just wanted to let you know that I got your note, and I'm totally up for visiting that ranch tomorrow.”

She gasped. “Really?!”

Her exuberance was actually a little _too_ much. “Sure! Why so surprised?”

“Well, because that's so nice of you to keep me company! And you've probably got better things to do than learn about Terran ponies.”

I shrugged. “Getting fresh air? Going down the shore, more or less? I could go for that.” I didn't know if I should mention this next part. “And besides, I'll get to be surrounded by real ponies! How cool is that?” Funny how what's 'real' had shifted so much in just two and a half years.

Peach raised an eyebrow. “That's a bonus for you?”

“Well, of course! It'll be almost like I'm in Equestria.”

Peach sat down. Then she stood up and went for her kitchenette. “Do you want something to eat?”

Oops. “Um, sure. Anything you've got would be fine.”

“I made spaghetti today! And I've got a spinach salad...”

“That sounds great. Uh... did I upset you just now? Mentioning Equestria?”

She looked over, her magic illuminating the refrigerator door and several objects coming out. “No! No, not at all. I guess I just thought if we were... getting into heavy territory, we might as well be comfortable.”

I went to the trusty ottoman and sat down. It was still cluttered, but one side was open, as if it had been waiting for me. “Heavy territory?”

She silently lifted spaghetti from a pan and laid it in a broad china bowl. Salad went in a smaller bowl. I idly wondered whether it was hygenic, lifting someone else's food with magic like that, but I couldn't think why it wouldn't be.

She added forks to each dish and passed them to me. “So,” she said. “You wish you could be in Equestria?”

So that was what this was about. “Not for keeps,” I decided. “But to visit, absolutely!”

Peach dished herself out smaller portions of salad and spaghetti and sat not far from me, on a cushion. “To be around more ponies?” she asked.

It sounded like she had some beef with me, but I wasn't sure what it was. “That, and to enjoy the different way of life. The controlled weather. The magic in the air.”

“Well, you won't get any of that with us tomorrow. Just us. Just the ponies.” She spoke matter-of-factly despite the spinach in her mouth.

“That's fine with me. Something wrong with that?”

She frowned and ate for a while in thought. Finally, she broke out with, “You know, it's one thing to try and figure out where you came from. It's another to... lose yourself in fantasies.”

I was getting a bit uncomfortable. “I'm sorry?”

Embarrassment came over her. “ _I'm_ sorry. I'm assuming too much. I'm just...” She looked down. “I'm still so new here.”

I wasn't quite sure what to say next, so I gave her some time. But I thought I understood what Peach was saying, so I decided to ask. “Are you saying I'm romanticizing ponies too much?”

She studied me. “Not exactly. I'm just... I guess I don't really see what you get from us. From my point of view, humans are like kale. Rich and full of nutrients... even if you are a little bitter.” She paused to see if I was following. “But ponies? We're like marshmallows. Or candy. Sweet and colorful and... kind of empty.”

It was breaking my heart to hear this. “Not even. Don't say that.”

She gave her head a meek little shake. “I'm not being self-hating or anything like that. I'm just saying it how I see it.”

“You are _not_ empty.”

“I'm not talking about myself! I'm talking about... ponies in general!”

“So am I.” I actually _had_ been thinking about Peach in particular, but the point stood. “There's so much we can learn from your society! There's so much we can learn from your magic! And that's just scratching the surface.”

“Magic that _you gave us_!” she shouted scornfully, rising to her hooves. “Society that works better than yours because _you wanted_ it to!!”

“We didn't _give_ you anything!” I retorted, spurred to anger by how ridiculous she was being.

“You might as well have!!”

I remembered her using that phrase before, in a similar context. -- _You are not children!_ \-- _We might as well be!_

“What does that mean?” I demanded. “We might as well have?”

She leaned forward and spoke more quietly. “Even if you didn't give _us_ magic, or harmony, you gave it to the fictional world you created. And we're identical to that world.”

“But you're _not_ that world!”

“And what does that matter, Ron? We're identical to an imaginary society that reflects your dreams. That means we reflect your dreams. It doesn't matter how we got them!”

“So is there something wrong with wanting to reflect on your dreams?”

“Maybe not, but there's sure something wrong with gazing into a mirror for hours and hours!”

I was dumbfounded. Did she really see things that way? I put my hands in my lap and sat there.

Soon, though, she walked up and put her chin on my shoulder. I inhaled sharply and she drew back. “Sorry, Pepper,” she said. “I don't know how we started yelling.”

I looked her in the eyes. “You feel pretty strong about this.”

“I guess I was just expecting you to tell me why I was wrong,” she replied.

I swallowed a lump. “You really think hanging out with ponies isn't good for us... us humans?”

“I don't know, Pepper. We haven't known each other that long. _None_ of us have. Maybe it's the sort of thing that takes a lifetime to actually make a difference.”

A question occurred to me then, but instead of asking it, I took a bite of salad. When it didn't leave my thoughts, I asked it. “So I guess you think humans shouldn't marry ponies?”

She stared silently. “Um... I don't know. I honestly don't know, Pepper.”

“You don't think there's anything in you that we couldn't have come up with ourselves.”

“That's true. You know it's true, don't you?”

I didn't. I shook my head and set aside the rest of my food.

“I don't know what that means, though,” she went on. “We may be made from fragments of yourselves. I don't know if that means you can't grow and learn from us. But for me, it's hard to see how.”

“We learn from each other,” I pointed out, facing her. “People learn from other people. All the time.” I swallowed. “I think we even learn from ourselves.”

“We learn from our mistakes,” Peach argued. “We learn from when we interact with the outside world. That's not the same as learning from ourselves.”

“Even so. If I can learn from my own mistakes, and from the other people around me, then I can learn from ponies. How could you even think all this, Peach? Of course we're good for each other. We're the same and we're different and we can help each other.” I didn't know how else to say it, but it felt like my argument was obvious.

“Kale and marshmallows,” she said, peering at her spinach and spaghetti.

“It takes all kinds,” I came back.

She looked at me in surprise. “To do what?”

I gestured aimlessly. “To make a town. To get along. I just can't believe that spending time with ponies could be unhealthy.”

She whirled her tail. It was fascinating. I'd never seen her do that before and wondered what it meant. “Maybe it's not. I could be wrong! Anyway, it's only for a day.”

I smiled. “Are we done arguing?”

“Yeah, for now.”

I picked up my plate and took another bite of spaghetti. “You're pencilling in another argument for tomorrow?”

“Not if you don't want it!”

I let that linger while I finished my food, then walked over and put my dishes by the sink. “And to think when we met, you said you were having trouble making friends,” I teased.

“Pepper...” she chided.

“Yeah?”

“You know I wouldn't get into all this if we weren't good friends already.”

So that was what it meant to be this pony's friend? Debating all those metaphysical things I'd tried to avoid thinking about? “Yeah, I know.”

She levitated her own empty bowls to the sink and set them down. “But if you want out, that's fine.” There was just a little hint of pain in her voice. “We don't have to talk about what our species or worlds mean to each other. We can just be a couple of folks.”

I considered this. And I remembered that if she hadn't been a pony in the first place, I never would have introduced myself. “I can't do that to you,” I decided. “Whatever you want to talk about, Sparky. I'll listen.”

She exhaled into a little chuckle. “Thanks,” she whispered.

I walked back to the pile of mechanical bits on the floor. “So what's all this?”

Her mood seemed lighter. “It's a magnetics kit! Second Sight loaned it to me last week. You use it to create magnetic fields and do tricks with them.”

“Huh, okay! So what can you do with it?”

“Well, I can make an electric generator by loading magnets onto a spinning wheel...” She looked around the pile of parts, sifting through them magically. “Oh, I know what to show you!”

“Oh?”

She floated over a cushion, plopped down, and set to work. A square structure with an unfinished bottom was what she started with; she turned it upside-down and added to it. Eventually, she magically extracted some plastic tubes containing little black objects and emptied their contents into similar tubes in her structure.

“What are those, magnets?” I asked.

“Extremely strong ones,” she replied.

I watched her work for a while. It was clear that whatever she was making, she'd made before. I guessed she'd had to disassemble it to use some of the parts for something else. I enjoyed watching her work. It was fascinating to see when she chose to use her magic and when she decided to go with her hooves or teeth, but it was also just nice watching Peach Spark do something she cared about. If ponies really had 'special talents', whatever she was doing was clearly related to hers.

It was getting harder and harder to convince myself I didn't have a crush on her.

After ten minutes, she slid a square metal sheet into a slot with a satisfying click. “All right! It's done.”

I was sitting cross-legged by now. “So what are we looking at?”

“Watch and see!” She levitated a little metal wafer carefully into the hole on top and set it on a metal sheet, right in the middle. Then she gestured to a toggle switch on the machine's side. “Go ahead―turn it on!”

I did. There was a cross between a click and a clang. The little wafer floated up about an inch and hovered there... bobbling left, then right. It didn't touch the walls of the machine, or the metal sheet, or anything.

“Whoa! You're not doing that with magic?”

“Do you see my horn glowing?” Peach said smugly.

I sat forward and stared at the floating square through the clear plastic parts of the structure. “That's awesome! It's just magnets holding it up?”

“That's right! And check this out.”

She fumbled at a panel of toggle switches. It took her a few tries to flick the tiny switch with her hoof, and I wondered at the fact that she chose to use her hoof for it at all. Maybe she didn't want to dilute the impact of her machine by using magic at the critical moment. Whatever the case, as Peach fumbled with that switch, I found it adorable.

But when she finally caught it with the corner of her hoof, and the rectangle zoomed to one side and banged into the wall, sticking there while still floating above the plate...

That was downright sexy. I was watching an ungulate do advanced magnetics with her hooves! I didn't understand it, but the fact she didn't have any fingers actually made it sexier.

I tried to keep my attention on the floating wafer rather than on the pony behind it. She carefully clipped at another toggle, getting it on the second try, and the wafer sped into a corner, bouncing slightly against the wall as it slid along it.

Then she threw hoofwork to the wind and used magic to work several switches at once. The square went dancing. It was hypnotic in its tiny arena, zooming like a little flying saucer in curves and Z-shapes, occasionally rotating a little but mainly staying aligned with the walls of the machine. I was entranced. It was technology and art at once, on top of an attraction that had hit me out of the blue. I had trouble breathing. I was choking on my wonder.

“Yeeaah,” Peach drawled. “That's neat, isn't it?” Her voice was almost sultry.

My head snapped up. I scooted over to Peach's side of the machine and started working the controls. “My turn.” I even cracked a hint of a grin when Peach squealed.

Playing around with that floating square was definitely fun, but watching Peach do it was amazing. So I let her take over again and watched patiently. For a while.

Then the urge took me to cooperate―like a pony would, right? I took two of the four switches under my fingertips and assumed control, leaving Peach with the other two.

And that was something else. We laughed distracted, nervous little laughs as we flicked our switches, seizing control of the square and relinquishing it just as suddenly. Peach turned a knob that somehow slowed the wafer down, and we teased each other, pulling it as close as we could to 'our' sides of the cage without letting it touch the edge. Then we cooperated to draw it in a slow, jerky wobble from one side to the other, and then from one corner to the opposite one.

I grabbed a paperclip from the floor and dropped it in. Peach hooted in surprise. I'd imagined us doing battle with the two objects, or using the wafer to knock the paperclip around, but instead, the clip and the wafer snapped together instantly. I guess they were so magnetized they had no choice.

We looked at each other. Then I went for her switches, seizing control and turning everything off, then on again. She batted at my hands with her hooves and fought me with her magic, flicking at my switches in retaliation. Very quickly, we fell into a game in which I was trying to turn off all the switches, letting the wafer and paperclip float freely above the plate, which Peach was trying to turn them all on. We fumbled and fiddled and feinted and twisted around each other for what must have been a very intense thirty seconds, all our victories short-lived but all the more satisfying for it. We were both out of breath when Peach gave a powerful burst of magic, turned on all the switches, and switched off the power while she was ahead. With a sucking sound, the wafer and paperclip clattered to the metal plate, still together.

I sat back and exhaled. I didn't want to listen to it, but a little piece of my mind was telling me that that had been a lot like sex.

We hadn't said a word since the struggle started. Peach laughed breathlessly beside me. I scooted away, doing the same.

Then we looked at each other. “You don't fight a unicorn's magic,” she marveled. She'd said the same thing the other day, but then it had been chiding, teasing. Now, I heard the unspoken addendum: ... _or so I thought, but wow, was I wrong._

_It doesn't matter what her tone says_ , a voice in my head warned me. _When a girl says no, she means no._

_Oh, shut up_ , I told my internal voice. I smiled at Peach. “Is that so?”

She was embarrassed. Her mane was out of place, and she straightened it self-consciously. “I have to admit, I didn't expect it to go like _that._ ”

“It's more fun when you don't expect it,” I said without thinking. Then my brain threw me what felt like the perfect follow-up. “So tell me. Was that kale, or marshmallows?”

Peach looked quickly between me and the machine, caught off guard. She blinked twice.

I sat back, folded my hands, and waited for her to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> The tension builds. Or something does, anyway.
> 
> It turns out I made a significant research fail in the previous chapter. But don't worry—I'll fix it in the next one! In the meantime, can you identify what it was?
> 
> Looks like Peach and Pepper are planning a day out! If you were hosting a pony friend, where would you take them to give them a sense of Earth, or of your particular town or city? What would you do?


	8. Markowski Ranch

EVERY TIME I saw another pair of ponies amble up, I bit on my grin.

It was nice, just being there on the edge of the Elizabeth River Parkway, homes and boutiques in sight across the street, cars flowing slowly by. And surrounded by more ponies than I'd ever seen in my life. Peach's words about losing myself in fantasies haunted me, but I was all right. I'd convinced myself ponies were something other than kale or marshmallows—I didn't know what, but I imagined it couldn't hurt to find out.

There were the two I knew, of course, Peach and George. Then there was the trip's organizer—Red Rover, a scruffy, thick-headed red earth stallion whose messy dark brown tail was more like a frazzled broom. I saw him pull objects out of it more than once and kept looking to see if he'd do it again. The rest of the ponies came in twos and threes, some loud and boisterous and some chatting quietly. A couple humans, a girl and a guy, arrived with one of them, but aside from that I was the only human in the group.

Fifteen ponies now, with all kinds of cutie marks. A rake, a birdhouse, a pony-shaped cookie.... It was funny—there were more ponies in the Greater New York metro than anywhere else on Earth, and that was still only about a thousand. Vancouver was a distant second with a pony population of maybe ten dozen. Unless immigration picked up, I wouldn't have a lot of opportunities to be with this many ponies at once. And given that the human population of New York alone was almost ten million, I knew I was utterly lucky to have one for a neighbor.

I scritched Peach's mane while we stood and waited. Red Rover was mostly schmoozing with ponies he knew, but he took time to fill in the group now and then. Uncle Clyde would be here soon with the bus, he said; so and so was on their way and we wouldn't leave without them; oh, we'd like Janine, she was a real class act. He struck me as more of a community organizer than a corporate VP—not that I would really know. But he did have the confidence of a leader.

Suddenly, a commotion. A little, noisy crowd was crossing Broad Street, and in the middle of it... well, it looked like a costume. I didn't even register what I was seeing until I heard one of the mares around me say 'minotaur'. But yeah—that's what it was.

Wow. A real minotaur. I'd known there were a handful of the other races, the non-ponies, here on Earth, but I'd never seen any in the flesh. “That's really a minotaur?” I asked Peach. “Is he coming with us?”

She was standing as tall as she could and staring. “That's a cow, and yeah. I think she is!”

A cow? What a weirdly mundane term for what I was seeing. This minotaur was clearly a warrior type, with a fierce face despite the lack of horns, studded overalls—at least, they looked like overalls to me—and pockets gleaming with metal things that might have been weapons. She was accompanied by two stallions in mail shirts who kept the surrounding crowd at bay. Once they were across the street, though, they bowed to the minotaur and took off. Looked like she was planning to ride alone.

Red Rover went over to greet his special guest, and for a while they talked quietly.

“Ever see a minotaur before?” Peach asked George.

“Got to admit I haven't.”

“Me neither,” I whispered.

We weren't the only ones surprised: the ponies around us were staring and whispering. Eventually the minotaur became aware of the impression she was making. She faced the crowd and combed back her bright auburn brush of hair with a massive arm. “No fears, ponies. Pyrrha Parnassus is here in peace! She is not a warrior today.”

Wow. Not only was her voice gruff and heavy, she referred to herself in the third person, just like... a certain other minotaur I was trying and failing not to compare her to. Was that normal? I didn't know whether to laugh or cringe. Peach gave me a pained look; she seemed to feel similarly.

“Friends,” announced Red Rover to the group, “this is Pyrrha Parnassus. She's a bodyguard for Mighty-Tongue Max, the Minnow ambassador to the UN. She's coming with us for her day off. Just treat her like anybody else, okay?”

A few ponies tittered at the silly names—and when a pony thinks your name is silly, you know you have problems—but aside from that, the announcement got nothing but murmurs. Frowning, or rather, scowling, the minotaur strode into our midst, taking us in. Ponies around her shied away, but one, at least, didn't seem put off. George walked right up and asked, “So, how many days a week _are_ you a warrior?”

'Pyrrha Parnassus' looked down, surprised to be addressed. “Hard to say. The throes of war seldom call Pyrrha to action. But in spirit, if not action, she is often called upon to be a warrior.”

“But whom do you war with?” asked a squeaky-voiced pale blue mare. Looked like George's question had broken the ice.

“There are always enemies of the Minnow Empire,” the minotaur replied, posing one arm. “We must remain vigilant against the cruel harpies of Thraxus and the venomous serpents of Undulea, not to mention incursions from Ardasti, the ferocious Ram King.”

I was too baffled to laugh at the funny names anymore. Meanwhile, most of the ponies just got more skittish. “Jeepers,” said George. “Your lot don't have it easy, do you?”

The minotaur narrowed her eyes. “We do not all have the fortune to be ruled by an immortal mage-princess.”

George raised an eyebrow and shrugged, as if to admit she had a point. They might have kept talking, but that was when a wide white and blue bus rounded the corner and headed our way with a couple friendly honks. It was time to hit the road.

All told, we were a little under thirty on the bus. The seats were pony-style—low, flat padded benches, with a few normal seats mixed in. Uncle Clyde, the driver, greeted us once we were seated. He turned out to look a lot like Red Rover in human form—scruffy half-beard, middle-aged and fat... but in a comfortable way. “Folks, thanks for joinin' me and Red on this little trip. We'll be about forty-five minutes gettin' down to the ranch.” The bus revved to life and pulled out of the lot. “So how's everypony doin'?”

There was a polite chorus of 'Woo-hoo's and other cheers. A little hoof clomping. I thought it was interesting that our human host had used the word 'everypony' while our pony host had said 'everybody', but it didn't seem worth mentioning.

It wasn't long before we were on the Turnpike, and Uncle Clyde was babbling intermittently about its history. Some of the ponies were listening intently; others were peering out the windows or in quiet conversation. Peach and George were among these, reclined on the long seat next to mine. They didn't talk much, and when they did, I could only make out a bit of it. George said something about highways and what they mean to him, and Peach grunted. Then she said she hoped they never build them in Equestria, and that's all I heard.

I could have leaned over and inserted myself into the conversation, but it felt wrong. And fittingly, just as I was wondering whether Peach could ever be as comfortable chatting with me as with another pony, the one and only woman on the bus appeared at my other shoulder with a “Hello there!”

She was pretty—her long brunette hair was a little thin, but I liked that better than any kind of big-haired look, and her low cheeks made her seem approachable. “Hi!” I replied. I liked the way her brown and red collar framed the hollow of her... oh god, what was I thinking? I'd seen her arrive with a guy, and besides. I had Peach. Didn't I?

“Isn't this exciting? I feel like I'm so lucky to be here!” Her voice was oddly quiet for how excited she sounded. She paused, but I wasn't quick enough to formulate an answer. “All these ponies in one place,” she clarified.

This was instantly embarrassing. “Oh yeah,” I agreed.

“I've got a work friend who's a pony and he told me about it,” she went on, gesturing vaguely toward a slight tan colt near the front. “And then Dan wanted to come too... how did you hear about it?”

Dan must have been the other man. So, was he just another work friend, or...? “I got a flier. Er, Peach here put it in my box, I mean.” Peach was listening over her shoulder with a cautious expression.

The girl laughed. “I'm pretty sure they didn't pass out fliers for the public or there'd be _dozens_ of people here. Hi, I'm Meg.” The girl offered Peach her hand.

Peach and George introduced themselves. I got the sense they had the same slightly queasy feeling about the girl I did. I wasn't sure how much of my quease was what, though.

“So have you known each other long?” asked Meg.

“Just a couple weeks,” I answered. Without thinking, I draped my hand over the armrest onto Peach's seat, and to my surprise, I felt her put her hoof in it.

Meg seemed to notice. “Well that's great,” she said. But she didn't seem to know what to say next. “I'm sure you'll all have a great time.”

“Or at the least, an illuminating one,” put in George.

The girl nodded nervously. “Absolutely. All right! Have fun.” And she returned to her friends.

I exchanged a glance with Peach—I'd call it a knowing glance, except that I, at least, didn't know what she was thinking. But it felt right to get up and join her and George on the long bench, so I did.

“I'm glad you came,” Peach murmured.

“Heh,” I breathed.

Five minutes later, I was leaning against the window frame and watching the scenery with Peach lying peacefully across my lap. I felt like a lucky son of a gun. I was staring at her back, too cowardly to put my hand on it but wondering how it would feel. I wondered if I could locate her backbone. FiMlanders did have vertebrae, right?

George was watching me with bright eyes, saying nothing.

We weren't on the Turnpike anymore, and something out the window happened to catch my eye. A big wooden sign, painted white, was crowned with a picture of a peach. Beneath it was the name Pleasantview Orchard, and in smaller lettering: “JUL – SEP, PICK YOUR OWN.” Beside the sign, an unpaved road led to a sea of pink braced by endless brown trunks.

“Wow,” I said. I was about to call Peach to the window when, just in time, I remembered that her gift of fresh peaches was supposed to be a surprise. But in the next moment, I chucked that idea out the window. Life is meant for the here and now. “Check it out, Peach!”

Peach clambered up and stared out the window until the blooming peach trees were out of sight. She had the most beautiful open-mouthed smile.

“Too bad the bus stops for no one,” observed George.

“I've got to go there someday,” said Peach. “What town was that?”

I shrugged. “Betcha Red Rover knows.”

So she leapt down and went to find out.

 

* * *

 

The ranch was on the edge of town, but even so, expensive houses and yards were visible from where we were let off. One side rose into light woodland; Colts Neck was in another direction, and ahead of us were pastures and fields. Uncle Clyde went ahead while the rest of us gathered and waited at the edge of a fence a little way from the parking lot. No ponies—Terran ponies, I mean—were in sight.

“The grass is greener on the other side,” observed Peach. She was obviously right—it was scraggly and dry on our side of the fence.

“That's the way of things,” said George. They exchanged a glance and then looked back at me.

“What, is this a metaphor?” I asked.

“Maybe!” admitted Peach.

“If each world were a pasture, it might be,” mused George. “What if you had a portal before you, blank as the sky? Say it lives in your closet, and you've got no clue where it leads. Do you go through?”

“A magic portal?” I asked. “Like the one you came through to get here?”

“Precisely. Only without any guarantees. All you know is, someone built it from the other side, so there must be people there. But that's all. Do you cross?”

“Do _you?_ ” asked Peach.

“I would,” said George. “But that's me. I won't think any less of you if you say no.”

I thought for a few seconds. “I'd have to know more than that,” I said. “What if I step through and tumble a thousand miles?”

“Could happen,” admitted George. “Then again, maybe it'd turn out all right even then. What sort of folks build a portal over a thousand mile drop without putting a cushion at the bottom?”

“I'd probably peek in,” said Peach.

“Good way to get your head lopped off!” said George, grinning. “When you came through from Long Hedge, didn't they tell you to keep moving? Don't fool around in the middle of the portal?”

Peach gave him a light shove. “You can't cut your head off in a magic portal!”

“If something goes wrong, you could. Peach, love, you're all in or you stay home. What's it gonna be?”

She gestured around herself—at Markowsky Ranch, at Colts Neck, at Earth. “Here I am,” she said. “What do you think?”

I edged forward, grasping the fence. “George, are you really saying you've got no fear of the unknown?” His cutie mark was a psychedelic question mark, after all.

He looked me in the eyes. “You've got me wrong! I've got a healthy fear of the unknown, Sergeant. Just that my sense of wonder outweighs it, is all.”

I glanced at the minotaur he'd had no trouble approaching before. She was fidgeting on the edge of the crowd while Red Rover kept her entertained. “I can believe it. But aren't there more dangerous things than... wondrous things out there?”

“That's quite the conclusion you've jumped to, mate,” he chastened. “But at least it's a jump.”

That was a puzzle I was going to have to work out later. We were greeted by the rancher, Janine Markowsky, a lean dusky middle-aged blonde in a cream-colored shirt, a denim vest and what I assumed must be a riding helmet. Uncle Clyde lumbered behind.

“It's good to see such a big group,” said Janine, all smiles. “This is only the second time we've had a tour especially for FiMlanders, and I'm excited! Yes, the first tour went fine, but now we've got a better sense of what kind of questions you'll have. May I ask for a show of hooves, or hands? How many of you have seen a Terran pony in the flesh before?”

I realized that I actually didn't know whether I had. I'd been around horses now and then, but I had no idea what the cut-off between them and ponies was. Since only a few hooves were going up, including Red Rover's, I kept my hand down.

“In a minute, we'll head down to the paddock where my son James and our colleague Holden will join us. We're going to be introducing you to six Terran ponies today, as well as a couple of horses. In case you didn't know, the horse is the official state animal of New Jersey! But first, I'm curious—does anyone have any questions? Or would anyone like to share their expectations?”

I wasn't really sure what she meant by that, but several of the ponies had something to ask or say, so we got a congenial little meeting before heading in. One pale green mare prefaced her question with, “So, this is a really stupid question...” And Janine wasn't the only one who smiled.

“Do you know what I say to that?” she answered. “I could say there are no stupid questions, but honestly, I don't believe that's true—I've heard some real humdingers.” The crowd laughed. “However, I will say that, four years ago, if someone had asked me whether today I'd be talking to a group of every-colored ponies with symbols of their destinies emblazoned on their rear-ends, I'd've probably thought that was a humdinger, too.” This time I joined in the laughter. “So in short, don't be ashamed. We have a lot to learn about each other.”

The mare's question turned out to be: “The ponies we're going to meet... they can't talk, right?”

This time it was Pyrrha Parnassus who broke into a belly laugh, which was awkward. “That's right,” said Janine. “They can't talk, can't fly, and can't do magic. But they can still be a lot of fun.”

“What do they like to do for fun?” asked a young stallion.

Janine bit her lip for a moment. “Well, they like good weather and good food, like anyone. Most of them like to socialize and a few like to give rides. There's one stallion, Boston, who's being trained in dressage, and he likes going through his paces. Aside from that...” She spread her hands. “Well, most of them like attention! And we're about to give them some.”

It felt like a good answer, given that she didn't want to disappoint anyone. Then a gray stallion said that he was looking forward to staring into an Earth pony's eyes and seeing if they could connect, somehow. Janine said he was more than welcome to try. And so on.

After all this build-up, we entered the ranch building, met Holden and James, and were shown the trophy room and the tack room. The former had pictures—some of the ponies hadn't even seen pictures of Terran horses before, so they gathered around and marveled for a while. The tack room was grimmer—whatever they may already have known, the group didn't seem too comfortable with the idea of equipment made specifically for controlling a pony. Saddles were familiar to them; halters, bridles, reins and bits were pretty much not. I noticed there were no spurs on display—no doubt for the best.

Finally, we moved out into the yard and waited by the paddock for the grand unveiling. As we watched, the three ranchers opened up the stable doors and led three Terran ponies up to the fence, talking softly to them as they went. Several of the Equestrian ponies leapt up against the fence, staring; a couple pegasi hovered overhead for a better view.

A gold mare with a xylophone cutie mark broke the silence. “Can they understand what you're saying?”

Janine looked up, embarrassed but smiling. “Kind of. Not like you do. It's the tone of my voice they listen to, not the particular words.” She gave the chestnut pony she was leading a pat on the neck. “And we don't always talk to them when we lead them... I guess it just seemed like the thing to do, under the circumstances.”

This spurred quite a bit of quiet discussion among the group. James, Janine's son, arrived with a blond pony in tow that kept straining its head out at the alien spectators. James had to keep it in check. “This is Marcellus,” he announced. “He's a four-year-old palomino Australian. We're raising him as a riding pony, especially for children and parties.”

Somepony in the back gasped. “He's a party pony? Like Pinkie Pie??”

James looked astonished, and then couldn't hold back a silly laugh. “Not exactly.”

His mother took over. “We invite parents whose children are celebrating birthdays or other special occasions to come here and get to know our animals! In addition to horses and ponies, we have goats, sheep, and dogs. But the animals don't do any of the planning.”

There were noises of disappointment as well as snickering. “What's wrong with their legs?” somepony asked.

Janine set her jaw. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“What are those ridges sticking out? And are those knobby things their knees?”

“Um... yes to the knees... and I'm not sure what you—”

That's where Red Rover interrupted. “I'll answer that question. There's nothing wrong with their legs. That's just how they are. You're seeing their tendons protrude, and that's natural. And the knobby knees and big hooves are natural, too.”

“Thanks, Red,” said Janine, a little unsettled.

So it went. Holden introduced his pony, a nine-year-old bay Shetland called Daffodil, and Janine showed us hers, the American Quarter Pony she'd mentioned called Boston. “I've been training Boston here personally for dressage shows—he had his first one this spring, and it went all right.”

“What's dressage?” someone asked.

Janine was ready for that one. “It's like ballet for Terran horses. They compete—or rather, we compete them against each other—on how well they move when being ridden. They're judged on how well they keep to the routine, respond to signals, maintain rhythm, and so on.”

Peach spoke for the first time. “Do they know what they're doing?”

“It's kind of hard to say,” said Janine. “They know they're obeying their training, and I think they usually know they're working to please their rider. Beyond that, I don't really know. They may realize the audience is watching them—they may realize they're competing. Or they may not.”

“But you work with Terran ponies,” said the little white mare with a pony-shaped cookie mark. “How can you not know?”

Janine shrugged helplessly. “We do our best to get to know them, but there's only so far you can see into a horse's mind.”

“It's not like we can just ask them,” joked Holden, a sturdy larger ranch hand whose lips went tight when his remark fell flat.

Janine continued. “Now, earlier I told you Boston was a stallion, but to be more accurate, he's actually a gelding. I learned not to throw that word around too easily from our first FiMlander tour! Does anypony here know what a gelding is?”

I couldn't believe she was asking that. Even harder to believe, it was the minotaur who answered. “ _That_ is an impudent pony who has been stripped of his treasures!” she bellowed.

Awkward. Lots of awkward. I heard one pony murmur “How dare you?” Others gasped.

“Um... that's one way of putting it,” said Janine. “But... well, it has nothing to do with impudence. It's not a _punishment_. The fact is, the majority of male Terran ponies and horses are gelded young—usually under two years of age. In most cases, it actually helps them to be better horses. It gives them a better disposition, which makes it easier to train and ride them. And it keeps them focused on their work.”

There was a rising clamor of questions, prompting the ranchers to flinch and grit their teeth. Looked like the second tour wasn't taking it much better than the first must have.

“What exactly are we talking about here?”

“That's awful! It sounds like slavery!”

“Who are you to decide what makes a horse better?”

“What do you mean a better disposition? Do you mean docile? Do you mean meek, and quiet, and easy to control?”

“Couldn't you use the same reasoning for Equestrian ponies? Or for that matter, for humans, too?”

It was a nightmare. But Janine handled it professionally, pushing her hands forward and trying to get the floor back. “Now now! One at a time! I'll answer all your questions. Yes, you.”

It took a while. In the meantime, James and Holden brought out three more ponies and two full-sized horses. James explained that a pony was any horse of a breed less than fourteen hands tall, with a few exceptions. “So any horse taller than that is a horse?” I asked. He grinned with embarrassment and said that yes, I'd got it.

Eventually, it seemed like the crowd was satisfied, though I sensed a lot of discontentment. Janine tried to sum up, and I admired her—sometimes by refusing to admit that you're out of your depth, you somehow aren't anymore. “Basically, it comes down to this. We don't geld people because they're people! Not only does everyone have the right to make their own reproductive choices, but... well, there are some advantages to stallionish behavior. Some racehorse breeders like stallions because they race with more passion and drive, for example, even if you've got to work to keep them focused. I guess the way I see it... horses, here on Earth, aren't like to do things on their own initiative. You've gotta train 'em. But you folks?” She chuckled and waved a hand. “You do everything.”

That more or less wrapped up the questioning, thankfully. We were left to visit with the horses through the fence for a while. Ponies who wanted to interact further were put in a little queue and had their requests taken one at a time. The Shetland seemed especially in demand, mostly by ponies wanting to pet its mane. And the stallion who wanted to commune with a Terran pony by staring into its eyes got his wish, though I never found out if he was satisfied. As for Peach and George, they were happy enough just to stand at the fence and watch the least popular animal on display—a stalwart appaloosa. Reddish brown in front, spotted brown on white in back. It was a mare, if I'd remembered right, but it's not like I could tell.

“Bit for your thoughts,” offered George.

Peach didn't look away from the horse, which watched her without moving. “I don't get it,” she said.

“Do tell,” said George.

“It's so stupid,” she murmured. Her tone was so reverent that I almost laughed.

“Are you sure about that?” asked George.

“Can't you tell? I'm standing here talking about it, and it's not even trying to figure me out. It's just... standing there. And did you see it walk earlier?”

“Can't say I noticed this one,” George replied.

“It's like it was... just running on instinct,” Peach said. She waved to the appaloosa, which barely moved in response. “Like it didn't even know it was walking, or why. Look at that face. Does that face look like it's thinking? _At all?_ ”

George examined the horse's features. I was inclined to agree. “Well, now you know the awful truth,” I said. “Some horses are smart, but some are pretty rock dumb. And even the smartest horses can't hold a candle to you guys.”

“But then _how?_ ” asked Peach, her front legs against the fence. “How did you get from _them_ to us?”

“Um...”

George Harrison turned to look at me, like he wanted to know as well.

“I'm not really sure. I guess horses have always been really important to us. Like, they're in a lot of our stories... they shape our language...”

“But they're not like us,” Peach repeated. She gestured over to a New Forest pony Holden was leading around a dirt ring. “I mean, I guess that one's kind of walking like we do, but it seems so... I don't know, mechanical. Rigid! I mean, you heard Janine say how their hips don't bend outward like ours do—they just go up and down, not left and right.” She turned to peer at me. “Hips that go left and right... humans have those, but Terran ponies apparently don't. And they can't bend their pasterns to hold things, either!”

I felt under the gun. “So we anthropomorphized. We gave our... our imaginary creations traits from ourselves, on top of horse traits.”

Peach stared, her mouth open. “We're a hybrid.”

“Only in these good folks' imaginations,” George pointed out.

“I know. But doesn't that chill you? Doesn't that bother you? Or even excite you?” Her hoof went up to her horn, tapping it with a new realization. “That's not all, is it? Where did our horns come from? I know you've got unicorns in your myths, but why do they have horns? Who invented that?”

I fidgeted. “I don't know. The ancient Romans, or Greeks, or something? Probably they have horns because cows and antelopes and other animals do.”

“So there you go,” said Peach. “I've got cow in me.” She inclined her head toward the bulky minotaur, who was tentatively touching one of the Terran ponies on its rump. “Or antelope, or both. And pegasi! I suppose they got their wings from birds?”

I shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, must be.”

She looked at George in disbelief. “How is this not blowing your mind?”

“Peach, love, I've been expanding my mind ever since I left Galloping Gulch. It's not easily blown these days.”

Her eyes went to me. “I want to ride one.”

I gaped. “Uh... why?”

Her foreleg flailed in a way it occurred to me no horse could ever mimic. “They're part of what I am! You humans are a part, and these horses are another big part. Yes, I know that's not the only way to look at things, but it's one way. There's a recipe to make us, George. Take four parts human and four parts Terran horse, add one part cow and one part swan... mix it all up and what do you get?” She tapped herself on the chest. “Pony. That's what. And why are horses important to humans? Because you ride them, right? Well, I want to ride one and find out what all the fuss is about.”

I fidgeted a little more. “I think it's a great idea,” I said.

“I know it's silly, but if I never—” She stopped short. “A great idea?”

“Sure! Let's go ask.”

Peach hurried behind me as I circled the crowd and went up to Janine, who was nervously trying to keep Pyrrha Parnassus from doing anything dangerous to the Australian palomino. “Say, Ms. Markowski?”

She looked up. “Call me Janine, and yes?”

“My friend Peach Spark was hoping she could get a ride today on one of the horses. Is that possible?”

Janine glanced for a moment at Peach, who was taut with energy, her head high. The rancher smiled an odd smile. “You know, we talked for a while about what we'd do if one of the Fimmish ponies wanted to ride. We were thinking we'd just ask our human guests if they'd like to ride, as a demonstration... but I _think_ we can accommodate you, Peach.”

“Great! It doesn't need to be for very long. And I promise to be careful.”

Soon after that, Red Rover called everyone to attention with a shrill whistle. “Heads up! Folks, you all know that humans keep Terran ponies and horses for riding, right? Our friends here at Markowski ranch are going to give us a riding demonstration. Gather up!”

So we watched as Janine, assisted by her son, showed us how a horse is rigged. There were a few troubled questions from the peanut gallery along the way—“You really can't get them to do what you want without all that?” for example.

So Janine explained that horses and their riders had an intimate relationship. Most riding signals were traditionally given with the body itself—through motions of the rider's legs and seat, or occasional touches of their hand. Some riders chose to emphasize verbal commands. “If you're riding properly, the reins and bridle are only a fallback,” Janine said. They can reinforce directions you give through contact, and experienced riders can use them to instruct a horse which foot they want them to move, and where. That can be useful for getting through tight spots, like when there are fallen branches on the path.”

“I heard that humans whip horses,” said a scared yellow mare with a rake for a cutie mark.

“It's true—whips and crops are also used for direction and discipline. You saw some of those in the tack room. They have a bad image—you see them in movies being used to torment horses into going on when they're exhausted—but in reality, they're useful tools for training and for when your mount needs extra direction.” She collected a small crop from Holden for demonstration. “You don't lash your horse—you give them a smart tap, usually behind the leg you want it to move.” We watched her illustrate the maneuver.

There was some wincing, but the group seemed satisfied. So Janine went over to the slender brunette, Meg, and asked whether she'd like to demonstrate how a Terran pony was ridden. She was delighted to, and over the next five minutes we watched her get installed atop the palomino Australian. She'd never ridden before, so we saw her walked through use of a stirrup, saddle posture and so on. Soon, Jamie was guiding her slowly around the ring.

Janine smiled to me. “Would you like to try?”

I'd been worried she might ask. “Go for it, Sergeant,” encouraged George. So I shrugged and climbed over the fence. Janine put me on the stubborn Appaloosa, to my slight chagrin, but I was definitely enjoying the experience. She taught me how to shift my hips and thighs, and then the basics with the reins. Soon I was circling the ring as well, with Holden at my side giving me tips.

Dan was offered a spot on the other horse, a sturdy brown Morgan called Jethro. He declined with a wave of his hand, so Janine turned to Peach. I couldn't see it well from my place in the saddle, but I heard the conversation. “We've had a special request, so we'll do our best to accommodate it. Peach Spark, is it?”

“Yes ma'am!”

“Peach here wants to try riding. Now, there's no established way for a Fimmish pony to ride a Terran one, but given that your species has a flexible anatomy, or so I hear... I feel like it should be possible.” There was a rumble of laughter. “How much do you weigh, Peach Spark?”

“About one twenty.” That sounded right. She had a lightish build for a pony—maybe average for a female unicorn. I'd found it interesting ever since I first read that the weight range for ponies and humans was practically identical. What other animals weigh exactly the same as humans? Some kinds of deer, maybe? Large hyenas?

“That'll work! Daffodil here has a great temperament, and she should be sturdy enough to bear you. We'll just have to keep her happy while we work out the best posture for you. We'll probably have to adjust the stirrups quite a bit!”

“No problem!” said Peach. “Hi, Daffodil! Glad to meet you.”

I swung around the ring and lost track at that point when Holden started giving me directions on how to hold the reins—I'd been pulling back too much, and the appaloosa was resisting. It was actually reassuring somehow to know it had a will of its own. By the time I finished my circuit and dismounted, Peach was in the saddle, hunched forward, with her hind hooves in high stirrups and her forelegs hugging the Shetland's shoulders. Janine was giving Daffodil a handful of raisins to reward her for her patience, and the crowd was watching intently.

“I think I've got it,” said Peach. She raised the reins loosely with her electric blue magic, and I saw Jamie gape in astonishment. Janine replaced the bit and gave the Shetland a pat. “All right—let's take her out!”

She remained at Daffodil's side all the way around the course, even as Peach did her best to direct her mount by adjusting her body. Janine wasn't as confident in instructing her as the ranch hands had been with me or Meg—she had to guess at what motions would be effective. It actually worked really well, though. Peach didn't just have her seat and thighs in contact with the Shetland pony—most of her belly, chest and shoulders were in close contact as well. If anything, Daffodil had too much instruction, but she seemed to learn well, and before long, Peach wasn't even bothering to use the reins. I saw her whisper something to her mount that I couldn't make out. The ponies around me cheered and clomped their hooves in congratulation on the dirt.

Then, just when things felt great, the massive Pyrrha Parnassus piped up. “Pyrrha Parnassus would like to ride!” she declared, stomping a hoof.

I could see how uncomfortable Janine was as she shook her head. “I'm sorry—you're far too big for any of our mounts.”

“It is true, Pyrrha is well-endowed, as any bodyguard should be. But that horse seems brawny enough to bear her weight!” She pointed to Jethro, who was big, sure, but not _that_ muscular. I saw trouble coming.

“There's no way,” said Janine, getting defensive. “He can handle a large man, yes. Not a minotaur. No offense meant, ma'am, but no.”

“You give your steed too little credit. Might we at least try?”

Red Rover was beside her, snorting and swishing his tail. “Pyrrha, you promised not to make trouble.”

The minotaur frowned. “Surely, if humans and ponies alike can ride equine steeds, that honor cannot be denied to the noble minotaur race!”

Jamie intervened. “What about Fergus?” he suggested.

Janine frowned and chewed her lip. “Might I ask how much you weigh, Ms. Parnassus?”

“My weight? A good sixteen tod.”

They set to working out what that was in pounds. After some discussion, Jamie went reluctantly to the stable and led out a massive draft horse, gray with a dark mane, who kept shaking his head at the crowd of ponies. Janine was doubtful, but no one wanted to upset a minotaur who worked even indirectly for the U.N., so she agreed to give it a try. The ponies were mostly content to watch this spectacle. Uncle Clyde remarked that he wouldn't even try to ride a horse these days, but he seemed more amused than concerned.

In the end, the mighty Clydesdale was able to take it, though not without protest. He whinnied in distress, and Janine stroked his head and gave him some carrot chunks. “Just for a little while,” she told him. The minotaur sat in triumph, pressing her knees inward and flexing her arm in the sunlight. “Onward, my worthy steed!”

All the while, Peach was still in the saddle, though she'd halted her own steed so she could watch. I went over so we could watch together. She mussed my hair with her magic, and I fought against it.

“That cow needs to learn what 'no' means,” Peach remarked.

“Yeah, probably. But you have to admit, it's quite a sight.”

“This is amazing,” said Peach. “I'm getting it. I don't get it yet, but I'm getting it.”

“How to ride, you mean?”

“What ponies mean to humans. It's clicking. I don't know how to describe it.”

“You seem good at it.” I smiled and put my face at Daffodil's level. She looked at me.

“You didn't seem half bad on that big dumb one,” complimented Peach.

I shrugged. “I just did what they told me. It'd take a lot of practice to get good at it, though.”

“Thanks for coming, Pepper.”

Somehow, the friendly nickname made me twinge, and I knew what it was. “Peach. Tell me something.”

“Yeah?”

“What does George mean to you? Is he your coltfriend?”

She looked down, uneasy. “I don't know.”

“He called you 'love' earlier.”

“Yeah, he does that. It's the way he talks.”

“You don't think it means anything?”

“I think everything he says means something. But we're not going steady, Pepper. I'm not saying we won't ever. But not yet.”

A knot was growing in me. “Should I be jealous?”

She looked sharply at me, but didn't talk until the urgency had faded. “Maybe. I can't tell a human how to feel.”

“That sounds like a brush-off,” I responded.

“Sorry. I didn't mean it to be. It's just true. I hope you won't be jealous, but maybe you need to be. Maybe that'll help you, somehow.”

I wanted to demand that she level with me, but I was worried it would sound too angry. I didn't want to spoil our beautiful moment. So I stood by her and watched Fergus finish his walk with the proud minotaur on his back. Janine was insisting that was enough, now, and Pyrrha had to get off. Pyrrha was trying to convince her to let her take Fergus for a trot. Red Rover got involved.

I put my hand on Peach's back, and she shivered. “Sorry,” I said.

“Don't be,” she replied. “No, don't be sorry, Pepper. You've given me a great idea.”

That made me nervous, but happy at the same time. Carefully, I helped Peach dismount from the Shetland pony. We returned to the group, where Pyrrha Parnassus was finally back on solid ground, and Jamie was comforting Fergus on the way back to the stable. Nothing seemed to have broken, at least.

“All right,” said Janine. “I think we've had enough time at the paddock. Now I'd like to take you all down to the training ground so I can show you what show riding looks like.”

So we followed the ranchers past a couple more buildings, which we glanced into—storage and machine shop—and to a much larger pasture with short green grass, a couple of hitching posts, and a few items of interest here and there. A few cloth-covered barrels, some low fences, a work cart in the corner. There was a track around the outside, and that's where Janine led the chestnut brown Quarter pony. We gathered around; one stallion asked if he could nibble the grass, and Janine laughed and told him to help himself. He wasn't the only one peckish by this point; even George indulged in a few bites.

Janine explained the basics of dressage—rhythm, relaxation, impulsion—all these different aspects of horse movement that could be commanded by an experienced rider of a well-trained horse. She fielded questions, this time without any issues cropping up, and then shortened the reins and mounted her pony. It was obvious she had a good rapport with Boston; he actually seemed excited to get to work.

“We'll start with the four natural gaits—walk, trot, canter, and gallop.” A slight motion I couldn't quite identify, and Boston was walking. “Let's all go for a walk!” she suggested. The crowd slowly followed. “And this, of course, is the trot—where the opposite, or kittycorner legs move together.” She let her steed demonstrate. “If you'll indulge me, I'd like all my four-legged guests to join us in trotting up the field!” And she waved her hand forward.

It was effective. Two dozen ponies trotted together over the grass, grinning and in some cases nudging each other. It wasn't long before most of them were trotting in tandem—you could play a drum to the beat their hooves made.

Janine reached the far end of the track and took Boston along the fence. “Now we've switched to a canter! Who here knows what a canter is?”

There were a fair number of cheers and raised hooves, but it wasn't everypony.

Janine laughed. “And your capital city is Canterlot! All right, a canter has three parts. First, move one of your hind legs forward. Next, move the front leg on the same side and the other hind leg, both at the same time. Then, the other foreleg! Just repeat those three steps. Give it a try!”

It wasn't easy for everypony to follow her instructions from horseback, but those ponies who didn't get it learned quickly from those who did. They seemed to find it natural, anyway. I stayed on one end of the field with Meg, Dan, Uncle Clyde and Pyrrha Parnassus while the ponies thundered playfully back and forth.

“Now a gallop! I'm sure you all know how to gallop! Just like the canter, but land the other hind leg first! Yeah, that's it! You know what you're doing!”

I marveled at how excited Janine had gotten now that she was riding. She eventually brought Boston to a halt before us and let the ponies settle down.

“So those are the natural gaits!” she summed up, flushed. “I'll tell you, that's one thing we didn't do for our first FiMlander group! It was spur of the moment, but I'm glad we did it!”

There was cheering and clapping, and I joined in.

Janine proceeded to show us the 'pace', where the horse moves its legs on either side together, first the left legs and then the right. The ponies tried this out, and most found it surprisingly difficult to get the hang of, while others took to it easily. Then Janine had Boston perform a piaffe, which amused and challenged the group further. “Basically, it's a trot where you don't move forward or back,” explained Janine, “and you suspend your legs for a little longer in the air.” Peach tried doing it and found herself drifting backward, whereupon George caught her. I heard one pony remarking that she'd heard this was how Derpy liked to dance.

Janine finished up by showing us a couple of dressage movements—the half pass, in which Boston moved evenly to the right as he walked forward, and the pirouette, in which he spun more or less in place around one hind leg. Some of the ponies tried copying these movements unprompted. When it was done, we all applauded, and Janine then pointed out some of the faults she and Boston had made, which she hoped to have corrected in time for his next show in July.

The group was impressed, though I was personally less impressed at the performance itself than at how well it had captivated the equine audience. At this point, Red Rover took over, speaking to us from on top of a fence, his legs twined between the top two slats. I had to admit that was a pose no Terran horse could ever pull off.

“Listen up, friends! You've got two hours, twenty minutes before the bus takes off—break into groups, do what you want to do. Janine's given us permission to walk the trails up through the woods or past this field toward town. Maps are in the ranch house. You want to visit more with the Terran ponies, they'll be available on request. Holden can show you the stables if you want to see how they live. Feel free to use this training ground if you're interested. And yes, the grass is fine for eating anywhere on the ranch. You guys know how good a discount we're getting? All right, any more questions? No? Good. We gather back at the paddock—see you in a couple hours!”

I leaned against a fence and watched as the ponies split off to pursue their own pleasures. Several got together and decided to race around the track—they were off like thunder. Others jaunted off across the meadow or went back to the ranch house. Peach went straight for Janine and followed her back to the stable, and George and I followed Peach.

“Peach Spark, right? Did you have a good ride on Daffodil?”

Peach nodded. “Absolutely. Thanks for making it possible.”

Janine smiled genuinely. “Of course! So, what can I do for you?”

Peach smiled back, a far more determined smile. “I want to be tacked up.”

Janine's smile faded slowly. There was a moment of silence. “I'm sorry?” said the rancher.

“Rig me! Tack me up! I'll pay extra, if it's not covered in my twenty bucks.”

Janine cleared her throat. I glanced at George—his expression was one of fascination, and growing.

“You want me to put a saddle and bridle on you?” asked Janine, unbelieving.

“I want the full Terran pony experience. Whatever you've got. Saddle, bridle, bit, the works.”

Janine paused with her mouth open and looked at me and George, as if we were going to stop her. “Lady knows what she wants,” quipped George.

“I've got fifty dollars,” said Peach. “I can even stay after the tour leaves if I have to.”

“But why?” Janine and I asked at almost the same time. We made eye contact for a moment.

Peach flicked her tail. “These animals, they're part of who I am! I've ridden one, now I'm starting to get what they mean to you. But now I want the rest of the package. Now I want to know what it's like to be one. Go on, rig me up.” She smiled. “I won't bite.”

This made Janine laugh, albeit uncomfortably. “Well, looks like I'm free. Sure. Let me put Boston away, and we can go pick out some tack to fit you.”

Peach grinned hugely. As Janine tended to her Quarter pony, I stared in amazement. “Wow, Peach.”

“I think you're too heavy to ride me,” she said. “Otherwise I'd ask. What do you think—could I hold that girl out there? What's her name, Meg?”

“If you cheat and pump in a bit of juice, I'd say you'd be fine,” suggested George.

“Magic? I don't want to use it, but I guess I'll probably have to. Pepper, could you go find Meg and ask her how much she weighs and if she'd be willing to help a girl out?”

It was quite possibly the weirdest thing anyone had ever asked of me. I nodded numbly and dashed up the path to the ranch house. My mind went over everything Cindy had ever asked me to do in the bedroom—and before her, there'd been Lily, and of course Pat....

Yep, this was the weirdest thing. How about that.

 

* * *

 

 

Well, Meg was up for it, and Dan decided he wanted to come along and watch. And even though we tried to be kind of secret about it, by the time Peach was fully outfitted half the group was gathered there, ogling. (Thankfully, the minotaur was nowhere in sight.) I should have felt uncomfortable with so many people seeing my... my kind-of girlfriend trussed up like a bondage slave. And maybe I did, but oddly enough the main emotion I felt was excitement. For Peach's sake, not my own.

“Ah cank oove wy hongue,” said Peach through the bit in her mouth. “Iz this reawy how ish shbos da veel?”

“I'm afraid so,” said Janine. “You could put your tongue over it, but then you won't receive the signals from the reins as well.”

“Dat's vine. How oo I look?”

“I... don't know what to say,” I said. “You look natural, I guess.”

“Good. Neg? Rea'y a ride?”

Meg looked nervous, but as she mounted the comically low stirrup she said quietly, “I just want you to know this is really exciting for me.”

“Thad's cool. I's ishciding for me too!”

Janine helped her sit in place, her feet nearly reaching the ground. A steady blue stream of Peach's magic flowed into Meg, helping to lighten the load. Janine didn't look totally okay with the situation, but I guess after accommodating the minotaur's request earlier, this was relatively gentle. Honestly, Peach looked kind of stunning in all the gear. If it weren't for the bit impeding her speech, I could have imagined her as an action movie star, with a little squinting.

“What now?” Meg asked.

“Dell me t' go vorward,” said Peach before Janine could answer.

“Go forward!” shouted Meg.

“It's 'walk'!” corrected Janine.

“Walk!” said Meg.

Peach walked. She had some trouble with the extra weight at first, but found a decent pace before long.

“Gee!” exclaimed Meg, leaning to the right.

“Whad doez 'zhee' mean?” asked Peach, angling obediently to the right.

“It means, go right!”

“Then why 'ot jus _shay_ sho?”

“Because that's what riders say!” Meg looked to Janine. “Right?”

“Sure, although nowadays it's more common to just say 'right'.”

“Right!” said Meg.

“Are 'ou shaying righd like, you wan' me da durn? Or righd, like, yeah, I know?”

“I'm not actually sure,” said Meg. “Okay, ready to try a trot?”

“I yuess. Ogay, say 'drot'!”

“Trot!”

It was a strange spectacle, horse and rider communicating, and miscommunicating, about what the rider should tell the horse to do. All in all, it probably accomplished about the same level of understanding as real riders do with real horses... but with a lot more noise.

“Have 'ou god a crop?” Peach asked Janine.

Janine was stunned for a moment. “You want a crop?”

Peach nodded, then winced as the bit pushed against her tongue. “I wan' the whole Derran pony exhperienshe.”

“But the crop is only necessary if the horse isn't responding to signals.”

Peach's eyes rolled back. “Den I won'd rezpon' du shingals.”

Janine sighed and hurried off, returning quickly. “Be gentle,” she told Meg. “Like I showed you before... a quick tap at the back of the leg.”

“Walk,” said Meg.

Peach gave her head a tiny shake. “I on'd wanna.”

“I said walk,” Meg repeated, squeezing her knees against Peach's flanks.

“Nope! Veeling lazy,” said Peach.

Meg leaned a little too far and snapped the crop at Peach's thigh. I winced and she winced too, jerking forward and starting to walk. “Aight, aight!” she called. “Awlk id is.”

“Sorry! Did that hurt?” Meg asked, regaining her balance.

“On'y a liddle. Sho whad else do Derran poniez do? Oh, I know! Nake ne rove ny legs, one a'a dime.”

So Janine showed Meg the difference between direct and indirect rein, and how each rein controls two of the steed's legs, but not the two you might think. And Peach's ears swiveled back to take it all in. So Meg then took her time figuring out how to direct Peach's every step, and Peach did her best to comply. Except for once or twice where it looked like she deliberately took a wrong step, and then, lips tight, Meg went for the crop.

More than once, I asked myself: Is there something wrong with me that I'm letting this happen? Should I be doing something? But I told myself to relax. My friend was enjoying herself, as was Meg, and no one was getting hurt. Even Janine seemed to find the whole thing satisfying after a while, though she was trying to conceal it. So I let myself enjoy it, too.

At last, Peach gave a little buck and shook her head. “Thad's enouv. Running oudda mazhic.”

Meg sighed and scratched Peach's mane. “Thanks again,” she murmured as she slipped off.

Peach stopped the flow of magic and turned to Janine. “Ogay, get a harnesh on ne. I wandda bull a cart!”

So a resigned Janine found a harness and cart and hooked Peach up. It struck me that Janine was playing the role of the workhorse here, while the animal in tack was acting like the owner. Peach hauled the cart across the paddock and back, then asked me to load it up. So I did—I put in a bag of buckles and a big bag of nails, and Peach hauled it around the ring. Again she asked for more weight, and I obliged by loading an entire loose fencepost in the cart. Peach could barely haul it now, but she persevered, taking ten minutes to trudge around the ring while several of us watched anxiously. When she finally made it back and slumped to her knees, the onlooking crowd of ponies pounded her out a round of applause. I knelt with relief and started taking off her gear.

“Thad was worf id,” she told me.

“I hope so,” I told her back. But once I'd removed the bit from her mouth, she no longer wanted to speak.

 

* * *

 

 

She wasn't mad—she just wanted to reflect. When I said “What a trip!” as we sat waiting on the bus for the last few stragglers, Peach said “Yeah.” And when I scratched her fondly on the neck, she smiled up at me. And I didn't mind so much that George was watching. That's what being tired'll do.

But when we sat later at our table in the Siam Garden in Red Bank (a lovely coastal borough, by the way) and Peach excused herself to use the restroom, George and I sized each other up. He looked evenly at me. I sighed.

“All right,” I said.

“I had a lovely time today,” he replied, not breaking eye contact.

“I know. Me too. It was strange, but it was really good.”

“The really good stuff often is strange.”

“You think so?”

He tilted his head. “Could be just me.”

I sighed again. “Tell me the truth, George. Are you interested in Peach?”

He only missed half a beat. “I am.”

I hesitated. “And you think you'll be better for her than me?”

He blinked, putting a pair of maroon forehooves on the table. “I don't know, Sergeant. That's for her to decide, isn't it?”

I took a long breath. “I guess so. So... what now?”

In answer, he turned and looked toward Peach, returning from the restroom. “Now I suppose we let her decide,” he said.

“What, just like that?”

He smiled grimly at me. “Would you rather let things fester between us? I like you, Sergeant. I'd be happy to hear it if you said you liked me. Shouldn't we work this out and stay friends?”

Peach resumed her spot by the table, seated on a cushioned stool. “Who's staying friends?” she asked.

“All of us,” said George, with a glance at me. “Am I okay to ask, Sergeant?”

I drummed my fingers on the table. “Sure. Fine.” This wasn't how I was used to things being done, but I was the minority here. When you get involved with ponies, you do things the pony way.

“Ask what?” said Peach.

“Well, I can't say if you're aware, but it seems both Sergeant Pepper and I have taken a liking to you, Spark. You're a fantastic filly, so I can't say as it's much surprise.”

Peach was instantly, visibly embarrassed, bringing her hoof up to her mouth. “Um,” she said.

“Didn't mean to embarrass you,” George amended. “Tell you what—if you'd rather, I didn't say a thing.”

She looked between the two of us, blushing. “You _like_ me, like me?”

Wow, she sounded like a schoolgirl. “I was just worried you and George were going out, so...”

“Haven't had any dates alone yet,” he remarked aside.

Peach took a drink of water to compose herself. She used her hooves—she'd pretty much drained herself of magic earlier. “ _Tell_ me you two aren't gonna start wrestling or something.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” said George, glancing at me.

“It's okay,” I said, managing a smile. “We're good.”

We sat in silence for a while. Eventually, Peach burst out: “So, am I gonna have to choose between the two of you, or what? Is that what we're doing?”

“It does seem to be the way of the world,” said George.

I pitched in, “But if you choose George, I'll understand. I'll still be your neighbor. And we can still visit. Without... you know. Anything inappropriate.” I met the stallion's eyes.

“You know I'd trust you, Sergeant.” He shifted to regard Peach. “And should you pick him—well, I can't complain. He knew you first, and he is a fine fellow. I'll still see you at Turtlewood, and such.”

There was something growing on Peach's face—fear, maybe, or annoyance. Or some emotion similar to both but unique to her. “Do I really have to pick _now?_ Can't we just have a meal together?”

“Sure. There's no rush.”

“Course we can, love. Didn't mean any pressure.”

She sat there ruminating for a while. Then she extended a hoof over the table toward each of us. George placed his own unhesitatingly against hers; I took her hoof in my hands. We stayed like that for a while, until the waiter arrived with our food and we released each other in embarrassment.

“Ooh! Is that the Phad Thai Pak?”

“Ought to be. And yours is the green tofu curry?”

“It smells great. You know, Pepper, we don't have tofu in Equestria!” said Peach.

“I didn't know that. I guess you don't need a lot of protein in your diets?”

“I have a confession,” said Peach. “I don't actually know what protein is.” She jabbed a piece of silky tofu in green sauce with her fork. “But I look forward to finding out!”

I'd gotten a mock duck noodle stirfry, since I felt like if my companions were eating vegetarian, I should too. I'd thought I might offer to share with them... but then I wondered if the mere idea of fake duck meat would repel them. So I wound up sticking to my own dish.

“You know what?” said Peach. “I think I ought to start a blog.”

This was so random that I stopped eating and let out a laugh. George seemed equally surprised. “Heard the word, but not quite clear on it. Is that like a public diary?”

“Basically! You know, they're starting to build internet stations in Equestria. Just in the big cities so far, and it's expensive, but maybe if I get popular I could be picked up by the papers! I think ponies could really get something from reading what I have to say.”

I fought to suppress my smile. “I can absolutely believe that. I think it's a great idea. What would you call it?”

“I was just thinking about that on the bus,” she admitted shyly. “What do you think of: 'Peach on Earth'?”

“Peach on Earth, goodwill toward men?” I asked.

“Well, I'd certainly hope so! And women!”

“Sounds like a lovely idea,” said George. “But what sort of things would you put in?”

Peach took a moment to frame her thoughts. “Insights about being a pony. The kind of thing I learned today, from playing _both_ roles, steed and rider. Thoughts on how our world is different from this one, and how it's the same.”

“That sounds just about terrific,” agreed George, popping a forkful of noodles and cucumbers into his mouth.

“I didn't know why I came to Earth,” said Peach. “Maybe I still don't. But if there's no one out there interested in my quest for answers, I'll be very disappointed.”

“I'm interested,” I said.

“Then you can help me get my blog set up!”

“Sure, I'd be glad to.”

“And George? No stranger to travel writing?”

“I've done my share.”

“You can write guest entries. What do you think?”

It was George's turn to blush, though it barely showed through his dark coat. “Entirely at your service.”

“You think it'll be mainly ponies reading your blog?” I asked.

“Do you think humans would care about my thoughts?”

I thought for long enough to finish my last bite. “I feel like, if we don't, we're not doing our job,” I decided. “You left your home and everything you knew to come here and get answers about what connects us. If we don't even care enough to listen...” I shrugged hopelessly.

“You're right. Humans should be reading my blog. We'll make it happen. And guys?”

“Mm?”

Peach sopped up the last of her curry in a chunk of tofu and sucked it down. “About picking one of you as my boyfriend. Is it all right if we just... hang out as friends for awhile? Without dating or anything?”

It didn't take long to find an answer. “Of course.”

“Like I said before, at your service,” said George.

“I just don't want too much on my plate at once.”

“I understand entirely,” George replied. “But speaking of plates, it looks like ours are empty. Either of you fancy a bit of dessert?”

“I wonder if there's anything with peaches here,” I mused, picking up the dessert menu.

“Forget peaches,” said Peach. “I want something with mangoes! I've never tried mango.”

“That's the spirit,” said George. “And following that, what do you two say to a stroll by the sea? I figure we've got an hour left before our bus moves on; that should be enough.”

“It's not the sea, it's the ocean,” I pointed out. “And we'll have to hurry! But I'm up for it.”

“Me too,” said Peach. “Stuff like that is better if you have to work for it.”

Thinking back on how she'd exhausted herself in the paddock, I couldn't help but agree. But if we were going to hurry out, there was one thing I wanted to make sure to do before dessert came.

I slipped through the restaurant, taking pleasure in all the tables full of ponies enjoying Thai food. One silly-looking mare had a huge mass of noodles wrapped around her fork and was gnawing it at from the side, her mouth parted at a ridiculous angle. At another table, Red Rover and Uncle Clyde were having a good-natured but loud conversation, their faces only separated by inches over a communal plate of sticky rice pudding. And at the largest table, Pyrrha Parnassus towered over a massive pile of spring rolls, clutching three more in her hand and holding forth on her vision for the future of Minnow-Equestrian relations.

I arrived at the table where Meg and Dan were eating with their pony friend. I took a moment to get my breath and then slipped up, smiling shyly. “Hey.”

“Hi,” said Meg, apparently surprised to see me. “Peach's friend, right?”

“Yeah. I'm Ron. I just—” I glanced at Dan to see if he was bristling—he wasn't, and I guessed he really was just a work friend. “I wasn't sure I'd see you on the bus, and I just thought you might want to stay in touch. Since—I mean—you and Peach shared such an intimate experience, and all that.”

She sized me up, her lips tight. “Then why isn't she asking?”

I shrugged. “She didn't think of it. It's me asking. But... you seemed so excited to be around ponies. And I know a few, thanks to Peach, so I thought... maybe I could introduce you sometime?”

The tan colt at the table had his eyebrows raised high. I flashed him a smile.

“That's very thoughtful,” said Meg softly. She paused a moment, then rummaged in her purse and handed me a card.

“Sorry, I don't have any,” I said. “But I'll call.”

The smile on her face was small—knowing, maybe—and meant for me. “All right, Ron.”

I nodded back toward my table. “We're gonna try and hit the shore before the bus leaves. So... see you later, and have a good trip back.”

Meg nodded, and Dan raised his hand. “Take care.”

I felt a little bit guilty. I'd gotten Meg's number, and I had to admit it wasn't just so I could introduce her to Seaswell and Kellydell. The fact was, I didn't meet a lot of girls... and if I hadn't gotten her number, I knew I'd probably never see her again. Even if Meg was a little awkward—not that I wasn't awkward myself—she'd stepped up when Peach had needed her. She deserved a chance.

I wasn't going to pursue anything, though—not unless Peach made it clear there wouldn't be anything between us, or I decided there couldn't be. What I had with Peach was special—really special. I didn't know whether I could really have a relationship with a pony, and I didn't know whether she'd choose me or George. But I did know that I was excited. In fact, I felt a lot like I had when I'd been just getting to know Cindy—when I first realized that I just might want to spend the rest of my life with her. That kind of excitement was wonderful. And yes, George made me jealous, but even that jealousy just added to the excitement. I'd take it.

I snaked my way back through the tables, raring for some time with the ocean, my rival, and my would-be girl. And a little mango pudding wouldn't hurt, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Boom. There you go. Huge chapter! You're welcome. ;)
> 
> This one took a lot of web research, since I've never worked with horses myself. I hope I got it right!
> 
> I mentioned last time that I made a research fail in Chapter 6. No one guessed what it was, so I'll tell you now! It turns out they do grow peaches in New Jersey. I thought the only American states that grew them were in the South, but that was totally wrong--they're actually NJ's fourth biggest fruit crop. Who knew? Not this guy--I live in Minnesota. So I went back and revised the opening phone call in Chapter 6. That's fine--it actually works better this way.
> 
> I feel like there's enough to react to in this chapter that there's no need for me to pose a question for discussion. So please let me know what you think!


	9. Unicorns

SOMEHOW, however strange the idea was of having a talking animal based on a line of children's toys for a lover, the idea of a romantic rival based on a line of children's toys was even stranger. Before the trip to Markowski Ranch, I'd been thinking about Peach whenever my mind was unoccupied at work. Now, I was thinking just as much about George. And I didn't like it.

I can recognize an unhealthy obsession as much as the next guy. Honestly, that's part of why I made sure to get Meg's number at the restaurant. To give my mind options. So that I could remind myself that I'm a human being with an interest in other human beings, and that this pony thing was just the latest development to come through my life.

It wasn't working. My thoughts kept drifting back to Peach, who just wanted to stay friends for now, and George... who was my friend too. I had to keep telling myself that, reminding myself that he'd always been nice to me, or I started getting angry. I fantasized about punching his smug worldly face in. Waiting for him to start saying something in his fake Liverpudlian accent and then bashing him again. I hated myself for these thoughts. I didn't need a therapist to see what was going on—obviously I had a major thing for Peach despite what I'd told myself before, and not knowing where I stood with her just made it worse.

I couldn't talk to my work friends about this. I couldn't call up someone like Laurie or Garrett—too much to explain. And I certainly wasn't going to tell my family about it. So I was kind of stuck.

You might think talking to Peach herself would kind of defeat the point. But that actually did feel like the best solution. Somehow, as neurotic as Peach could be about her intellectual quest, spending time with her usually felt pretty chill. I supposed one reason I liked her so much was how easy she made it for me to feel comfortable.

She'd invited me over Wednesday evening to help set up her blog, so I did my best to take it easy until then. When I arrived, she was deep in frustration, sitting with all four hooves on the seat of a black swivel chair and staring daggers at her computer.

“Uh oh,” I said. She swiveled toward me, overshot, and spun all the way around again before hopping off.

“Pepper! I'm so glad you're here.” Peach leapt up and hugged me, so I hugged her back. It was good to know that fell under the heading of just being friends.

Whatever had been in my head flew away. “I had a great time Sunday,” I said.

“Yeah. Me too.” She plopped back to all fours. “Want something to drink? I think this blog thing is gonna be a challenge.”

She had a big bottle of a thick mango-based health drink in her fridge, so I indulged. “Computer troubles?”

She sprawled on a big pile of pillows and sipped her juice blend like it was alcoholic. “Your whole computer... infrastructure architecture thing is a _nightmare_. Remember how we decided your world is more complicated than mine?”

“Yeah, I know. Computers can be awful. But they do amazing things, right?”

“Celestia can do amazing things. Twilight Sparkle can do amazing things. These things?” She waved a back hoof toward the computer. “They're pretty cool. But I dunno if they pass the 'amazing' threshold.”

I drank. “I think that threshold might be higher for you than for me.”

“Yeah?” She drank and wiped her muzzle. “Then why was I the one who went all gaga in that Wall Store? And why was it me who got so crazy about horses on Sunday?”

“You thought they were amazing?”

She had to think about that. “Maybe not them, exactly. The connection. It's amazing that a butterfly comes from a cocoon, right?”

It was nice to have something we could agree on. “Right.”

I held my glass out. Peach frowned, but clinked it with her own. We both drank.

“Well, it's amazing that we ponies,” and she indicated herself, “came from them. I'm still wrapping my head around it.”

“I don't suppose it would help for me to say that you didn't come from Terran ponies.”

“Not really.”

“Because you'd just say...”

“...we might as well have.”

“Right.”

“You always say that.”

“It's always true.”

I took a big gulp. My palate was coated in mango.

“So we're amazed by different things,” I admitted. “I guess it's true, I'm not as amazed by computers as I ought to be. Guess I'm used to 'em.”

“Well I'm not. And if I'm amazed at all, it's that anyone gets anything done. Half the windows on my screen don't have any instructions and the other half don't make any sense.”

That certainly didn't sound good. I set down the juice and climbed over to her computer. “Nice chair,” I said, sitting down. “Where'd you get it?”

“At an office supply store! I got my second paycheck yesterday!”

I swiveled toward her. “I thought most of that paycheck was either going rent or toward paying me back for the TV set.”

She shrank back on her pillow pile. “You know what? You're right. Let me pay you back right now. What was it, six hundred dollars?” She got up and stepped carefully from the pillows toward her dresser.

“About that, yeah. But are you gonna have enough left for rent?”

She thought for a few moments. “Yeah. I'll have thirty-some bucks left.”

“So you'll have to live on thirty-some bucks for the next two weeks?”

Peach scowled and stamped the floor. “See, Pepper? Your world's being complicated again. What am I supposed to do?”

I sighed. “How about you pay me back half, and the other half out of your next check?”

She looked ashamed. “Okay.”

“And don't make any more big purchases for a while, okay? This chair looks expensive.”

She hung her head. “Okay.”

Being human, I couldn't not go over and hug her, so I did. Gently. “It'll be okay. Your job pays a lot better than mine, I'll tell you that.”

“Doesn't seem fair.”

I withdrew, smiling. “No? Well, you went to vocational school. I didn't.”

“I only have this job 'cause I'm a unicorn.”

What could I say to that? “Well, you take what life gives you, I guess.”

“Except it didn't,” she muttered.

I paused, returning to the swivel chair. “Pardon?”

Peach met my eyes. “Pepper, what does it mean to you that I'm a unicorn?”

“I... have to admit, that's one question I'm not prepared for. Um... it means you're awesome?”

I was looking at a skeptical face. “You're just saying that.”

“I guess I am. Okay. Honest answer. It means you're exotic. You're amazing... to me anyway, even if not to you. But I like you aside from your being a unicorn. Honest, I do.”

She looked flattered, but shook her head. “No, I know you do, and that means a lot to me. But that's not my point. Sure, I'm different. But is that all? You don't expect me to be... pure, for example? Pure-hearted and graceful?”

“Ohh. You mean... like a unicorn is supposed to be?”

Peach's head jerked up. “Aha! So you _do_ have preconceptions!”

Oh gosh. That had been a poor choice of words. “Peach, are you really comparing yourself to... legendary unicorns?”

“I kind of have to, don't I? They're a part of me, too.”

“But they don't exist, Peach. They never existed!”

“I know.” She grinned a lip-biting grin. “But they're still part of who I am, so I've got to get to know them. Hold on a mo'.” She hurried over to her dresser and levitated out three books. I could see the unicorns on their covers before they even reached my hands.

“The Lore of the Unicorn? Unicorns in Myth and Culture? Peach... I don't mind that you want to learn about traditional unicorns, but you've gotta realize... My Little Pony took that whole idea and...” I had to be very careful what I said next. “They transformed it. They made unicorns into people, Peach. Not just symbols, and not just... vessels of purity. But actual people with personalities and flaws. It's... I just don't want you to try and measure up to the kind of stuff you'll find in here,” and I tapped the books, “when the reality is something completely different.”

“Why shouldn't I try and measure up? And why shouldn't you? At least some of the unicorns in these books represent... human ideals for how a living being should be, right? If I understand it right, these are the greatest creatures, the most admirable creatures your civilization has come up with. Shouldn't _everyone_ be trying to become more like them?”

I changed the subject slightly. “Do your people have any kind of ideal creature that you try to live up to?”

“Well... yeah, obviously. The alicorn.”

“Oh. Duh.” I joined her on the pillows with the books in my lap. “So, alicorns are to Equestrian unicorns as unicorns are to humans?”

“I guess. Except, you know. We didn't make _up_ alicorns.”

It really did feel weird, every time I thought of Celestia really existing, somewhere in the world, doing something right now. But then I remembered seeing that episode in Wal-Mart. The thought that _Crackle_ really existed was even weirder. “Well, it's not like alicorns never make mistakes.”

Peach smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes it seems like Celestia makes mistakes just so she can seem more... relatable. Like one of us.”

“Well, that and so Twilight could shine.”

“Right, right. Sombra, Tirek, the Glen Troll... I remember when the conspiracy crowd started buzzing about how Celestia could've dealt with any of them on her own, or at least with help from Luna, and how they were just letting Twilight take care of things so she could fulfill her cosmic destiny... I'll tell you, I was flabbergasted when she admitted it was true! I felt hurt, like she'd been gambling with her whole kingdom just for her own pet project.”

“Maybe she was,” I said. “I didn't really have a chance to be surprised, since I wasn't watching the show... I just found out about everything in a big lump, like most people.”

“All for Twilight Sparkle's destiny,” Peach groused. “And now she produces a reality TV show.”

I laughed. “You can't argue with destiny!”

“Well, her story's not over. But still. It's not just that. Celestia's constantly doing things like leaking pictures of herself gorging on doughnut cake and letting folks publish unauthorized biographies, just so she can keep her image... I don't know, _flawed_.”

“Do you get the idea it's false modesty?”

“No, I don't. I kind of wish I did. I get the idea it's _real_ modesty, and it just makes me admire her more.”

“Is Celestia your hero, then? Do you try to live like her?”

Peach shook her head, falling into thought.

“Maybe you don't have anything like our unicorns, then. I mean, alicorns may be amazing, sure, but they're still people with their own problems.”

Peach took a strained breath. “Phoenixes,” she said.

I was caught off guard. “Really?”

“Kind of. They're supposed to be pure, but a cleansing kind of pure. If a phoenix decides to care about something, it won't back down, and it'll use fire.”

“Care about something? Like what?”

Like about ending something horrible, like slavery. Phoenixes fought slavery in the Minnow Empire. They probably would've fought King Sombra if they'd been around in the north back then. Or sometimes they'll fight for peace and scream fury at anyone who's aggressive.”

“Huh!”

She took a drink. “Usually if a phoenix gets involved, it's some big political thing. But sometimes they'll latch onto something little like a domestic disturbance. I never saw a phoenix in real life, but there's a story that one came through Witherton a hundred years ago and wouldn't leave until the mayor and his wife made up.”

“Wow. So you do have creatures that represent purity, then.”

“Yeah. Except, again—we _didn't make them up._ ”

I smacked my tongue. “Well, there you go. Equestrians really don't need fantasy, do you?”

“Maybe not,” said Peach, turning back toward the computer. “What I need is to understand more of reality. Like right now, I need to understand why this FTP client or whatever it is won't take my domain information.”

I snapped into helper mode. “Right. For starters, I can see from here half those windows are pop-ups.”

“Pop-ups?”

“Yeah, they show up when you go to a website or install software you probably shouldn't. Like, that one there? That's just an ad for software you don't need.”

“Why would...” Peach hopped into the swivel chair, so I dragged the ottoman over to sit next to her. “Why would it tell me to buy something I don't need?”

“For... for money? Come on, Peach. You can't tell me Equestria's so pure no one tries to cheat anyone.”

“Pff, no. But I didn't think anyone was trying to cheat me here!” She gestured to the screen. “I mean, the computer is a tool! You mean there are people trying to cheat me _inside_ my tool?”

I chuckled. “It does sound pretty awful when you put it like that. But you're not just dealing with your own computer. You're dealing with the internet. It's like you're going outside, only not physically.”

“Great. So I've got to deal with people like the Flim Flam Brothers right here in my own apartment.”

“You've just got to be careful. Here, let me get this under control.”

Peach yielded the chair, and I set myself to sorting out her problems. And she had a lot of them. I wound up installing antiviral and anti-malware programs before doing anything else. And uninstalling a bunch of junk she'd obediently installed—some of it, she'd even paid for. I tried to be as kind about it as I could, but Peach got more and more ashamed.

Eventually, to cheer her up, I suggested that she read to me from her unicorn books while I was working. She bounced at the chance.

“Okay, so not all your unicorn legends make us out to be so great,” she told me. “Some of these descriptions are really bizarre.”

“Oh yeah? Read me one.”

As I labored through the confusing help system provided by Peach's domain host, Peach read to me in equally laborious Middle English, but with a mischievous tone:

“' _Monoceros is an Unycorne: and is a ryght cruell beast._ ' Oh, way to get on our good side, Isidore of Seville! ' _And hath that name for he hath in the mydull of the forehed an horne of foure fote long._ ' Wow. Unrealistic standards much? ' _And that horne is so sharpe & so stronge that he throwyth downe al or thyrleth al that he resyth on._' Thryleth? Oh okay, that means 'pierces'. Yikes. ' _...And this beest fyghtyth ofte wyth the Elyphaunt and woundyth & stycketh hym in the wombe, and throwyth hym downe to the grounde._' Wow. That's what unicorns are supposed to do? Skewer bull elephants in the womb? Okay then. ' _...And the Unycorn is so stronge that he is not take with myghte of hunters._ ' Oh yeah, unicorns are definitely known for strength. That's why all the farmers and construction workers are unicorns, right? Oh, I love this next bit. ' _But men that wryte of kynde of thinges meane that a mayde is sette there he shall come: And she openyth her lappe and the Unycorne layeth theron his heed, and levyth all his fyerinesse & slepyth in that wyse: And is taken as a beest wythout wepen & slayne wyth dartys of hunters._' So! Yeah, I love how apparently all unicorns are male, or at least we all looove women. Hey Pepper?”

I was preoccupied but amused. “Yeah?”

“You wanna catch me, you won't be able to do it with hunters. Spears and darts or whatever? Not enough. I'm too tough for that.”

I grinned without looking away from the screen. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“But I've got a weakness. I love virgins. Virgin maidens. They're awesome. I'll take two.”

I tried entering a new directory path in Peach's client. “Should I be jealous?” I asked.

“Already told you, I don't know what good jealousy does. But yeah, you probably should be. 'Cause the first thing I'm gonna do when that maiden 'opens her lap'? I'm just gonna stick my head in there and fall asleep. 'Cause that's my bag. That's how Peach rolls.”

I couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. Peach laughed too.

“So tell me,” I prompted, playing along. “Why's she got to be a virgin? I mean, it's not like you're... you know, interested in her like that, right?”

“Oh, no no. No, it's this aura of innocence virgins have around them. You mean you can't feel it? It's totally the bomb. Oh, but this other book says it's about moistness. Some Middle Ages scholar said he thought virgins are cool and moist and make the air nice for unicorns. Makes sense to me!”

I giggled. “I don't know what they were thinking.”

She tapped a book with a unicorn posing in front of a crescent moon on the cover. “I think it's because both unicorns and virgins are connected to the moon. Virgins like the moon because it's... I don't know, it's soulful, and we unicorns just like the moon 'cause it's pointy, like our horns.”

“...The moon is pointy.”

“Well, the crescent moon is! You'd better be careful, you could cut yourself on that.”

I stared. “I can't actually tell if you're joking. Is the Equestrian moon actually pointy when it's a crescent?”

She laughed in a whole new way, like she'd gotten me. “No! It's round and it only looks like a crescent because that's the part the sun's shining on!”

“Okay, right, same with ours.”

“And yet _you_ guys didn't know that until what, a thousand years ago? Whereas all my ancestors had to do was just ask Princess Luna, and she'd tell them!”

“You seem to find this really funny.”

“Isn't it? These books are _hilarious_. In one description, it says a unicorn's horn is black, seven feet long, and floppy like a turkey's comb except when it's fighting. And another one says a unicorn mother has _fourteen_ huge udders, all as big as a cow's or bigger! I mean, there's not even _room!_ I'd have to have udders all the way up my face and over my head.”

We both laughed like children. I went and drained the last of my mango juice, then sat on the pillows. “So I hope you're learning not to take what _we_ think unicorns are like seriously,” I remarked.

She found her own juice and joined me. “Actually? It's rich. It's funny rich, but it's food-for-thought rich, too. I mean because, as ridiculous as most of this stuff is,” and she tapped the books again, “somehow a big part of me and my people came out of it. Really, the crazier these unicorn stories are, the more answers I've got to find.”

“Like... how you could grow fourteen udders if you really tried?”

She stuck out her tongue. “Like how a monster turns into a perfect creature, and how that becomes a person.”

I sighed. “Peach... It was just a TV show. Just a TV show made to sell toys.”

“But humans invented that show,” she pressed. “All the pony shows! They created them to be appealing, and they wouldn't be appealing if they weren't drawn from culture. And that makes there's something appealing about making this...” She tapped a pearly white unicorn on the cover of one of the books. “...more like this!” And she gestured to herself. “And I'm going to find what that is, and when I do? I'm putting it on my blog.”

I took that as my cue to get back to work. “Far be it from me to stand in your way,” I said. I saw her grinning in the corner of my eye.

Over the next two hours, in between answering my questions, Peach read me more excerpts from the unicorn books. We laughed, but the whole time I kept in mind that every fact and every passage meant something to her. We finally got her domain—peachonearth.com—responsive and settled on a blogging platform. We picked skins and settings together. And at last, well into the night, I yielded the swivel chair and threw myself onto the pillows in order to let Peach write the very first entry of her brand new blog.

It took her a while, even though she warned me it wasn't going to be very long. I was patient. At last, Peach declared that she was done, and I sat down on the corner of the ottoman to be her very first reader.

 

* * *

 

 

[ Posted 6/13/18 by Peach ]

My name is Peach Spark, and I'm a unicorn. I can do magic with sheer willpower, using a horn that grows out of my head. I can lift things without touching them and carve a complicated picture on a grain of rice. I am a magical being.

Do I live in a magical land of wonder and whimsy? Well, I'll let you be the judge. I live in New Jersey, USA. Earth. What do you think?

So what's a nice filly like me doing in a place like this?

I'll tell you what. Read this blog, and you'll find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> After the last intense chapter, this one was a lot easier and quicker to write. I did have to do a little research on unicorns, but most of that consisted of talking to one of my pre-readers about them. He considers the unicorn his totem animal, so was able to provide me with quotes and 'facts' from medieval scholars, some of which are included here. :-D
> 
> The timestamp on Peach's first blog entry reveals that this story is taking place in the spring and summer of 2018. I hadn't pinned the date down when I began the story, but when I eventually made notes for an upcoming chapter (possibly the next) that referenced BronyCon 2017, that settled it. The only conflict this creates is the fact that I dropped an oblique reference to Chris Christie's Bridgegate into Chapter 3, but that's fine: realistically speaking, there will always be governors playing hardball politics. Well, that and the fact that the Walmart greeter system was apparently dismantled in 2012, though some locations still maintain greeters. It does mean that the president in Ron's Chapter 6 fantasy who sings Mister Rogers' theme song to Celestia is not Barack Obama, which is a shame until you realize that just about any president singing that song as a diplomatic overture would be funny.
> 
> If you were a blogger living in Equestria, what would you write about?


	10. The World Cup

IT’S NICE to have something to wake up to. In college, I had friends who’d brag about all their classes being after noon. I was the opposite—I liked making sure I had a class to wake up for each morning. (And yes, even though I went to college I still wound up with a working class job. I’m not the best at self-promotion, and it’s not like a bachelor’s degree gets you that much these days, anyway.)

After college, for a while—a short while—I had Cindy to wake up to. Not to say staying in bed didn’t have its merits too, but when I was living with her, one way or another, I was gonna wake up bright and early. It felt good, from my side anyway. I got pretty decent at making breakfast—the kind that involves heating food up. You know, fancy breakfast.

Waking up for work doesn’t have charm like that—not by a long shot. The best I could do was set my alarm clock to WFUV and make cranberry pancakes now and then.

But then Peach started making daily blog posts, and I started to remember the feeling of getting out of bed knowing that in just a minute, I’d be smiling.

* * *

[ Posted: 6/18/18 by Peach ] 

So, guess what I found out today. Humans play polo—but get this: They do it while sitting on horses! The horses do the running and the humans do the swinging.

I don't know whether to feel upset or delighted. Are the horses being exploited, or is this just a cooperative sport? Should we be flattered that horses are pretty much the only animals humans play sports with?

Poem of the Day: For Humans Who Like Sports

If you get your biggest thrills   
from other people's skills   
You're probably a fan.   
But I say: Play if you can!

And if you’d rather give a ball a whack   
While on somepony else’s back,   
You may as well play polo.   
But I say YOLO.

  


2 COMMENTS

* * *

Yeah. That left me snickering, all right. I left a comment:

“Love your Poems of the Day. For the record, I don’t know whether polo horses like playing or not. Their owners probably say they do, but who knows? By the way, does this mean ‘polo’ stands for Ponies Only Live Once?”

And since I wasn’t scheduled until 3p.m. that day, after breakfast I set to work putting my bills in order. Not the most exciting task, huh? Good thing I had something to wake up for.

Then again, my news app reminded me that the U.S. was taking on France in the World Cup Round of 16 that morning. Of course, international football wasn’t like _real_ football, but I’d been following the group stage, so why not? I turned on the TV at 10:30 and settled in with pork rinds and cola to root for the Stars and Stripes.

_Knock knock knock._ For just a moment, I panicked. It’s sad when your social life is so thin that a knock on the door makes you nervous.

But then again! “Peach, is that you?” Probably should have just looked through the peephole, but the thought of a certain peach-colored unicorn in my apartment had me excited.

“Yep!” answered Peach. I opened the door and she ambled in cautiously, but happily. It was only the second time she’d visited me at home.

I was cheerful already. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’ve got the day off, that’s all! We’re between projects and HR’s been bugging us to use vacation days, so I figured I’d be a good employee. Even though I’m not an H.”

I took a moment and still didn’t get it. “Huh?”

“You know, like in HR? Human Resources?”

“Oh.” I flushed a little. “Well, that’s always been a dumb name. You’re not really a resource either.”

“Eh! That’s debatable. So whatcha watching?”

I gestured at the screen. “Soccer. It’s the World Cup.”

“Ooh!” Peach skittered over. “I heard about this but I haven’t seen any yet. You saw my post on polo today, right?”

I walked back to the couch and sat down. “Yeah—commented on it, even.”

“Oh nice! Well, polo was a shock, but I was almost as surprised when I found out you have soccer here. I mean, since you only have two feet each. That must make it a lot harder!”

That was a weird way of thinking about it. “Uh… well that’s kind of the point.”

“How is that the point?”

“The idea is that it’s tricky. If you could just throw the ball from one player to another, it’d be too easy. So they made the rule you can’t use your arms.”

Peach was sitting in front of me, staring at the TV. I saw her ears shift. When she looked back at me, her expression was… I don’t know. Curious, and hungry, but with an edge. “So we’re playing the easy version of your sport?”

Danger signals flashed in my head. “I guess?”

She paused. “The childish version?”

I spread my hands. “I’d have to see Equestrian soccer in action. Maybe.”

She snorted. “Heh.” And she turned back to the game. France had possession and was meeting resistance on the attacking half of the pitch. Ten minutes to halftime, one goal apiece.

“So that’s it? You’re not gonna wring your hair over it?”

“Nah, I’m used to it by now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. My eyes caught the bag of pork rinds and I realized I was embarrassed by them. I didn’t want to have to explain pork rinds to Peach, so I smuggled them into my kitchen, keeping one eye on the game through the doorway. “Hungry at all?”

“Sure!” She sat forward eagerly. “What’re you having?”

I suggested a sandwich, and my ingredient ideas satisfied her. So I made one for each of us and strolled back just in time to see the U.S. goalkeeper absorb a powerful last-second shot on goal to the chest. Peach was standing and pawing the floor as time ran out, her face just three feet from the screen.

“Nice! So now it’s a halftime break, right?”

“Yup. Fifteen minutes.” I took a bite of my baba ghanoush, onion and alfalfa sandwich. Somehow a vegetarian lunch didn’t seem as out of place for soccer as it would for some sports.

Peach ambled back to join me on the couch. “Who do you think’s gonna win?”

I smiled wryly. “France are the favorites. We were lucky to score at all.”

“Really? That’s too bad.”

“Well, they’re saying anything can happen this time around. Germany got knocked out on Monday—they were the defending champs. Sudan qualified for the first time ever, and Romania made the quarterfinals for the first time in twenty years.”

I saw Peach’s ears quiver, and I realized I loved that about her. “Huh! Is there some reason things are weird this time?”

“Well, yeah! Russia was going to be host until they invaded Eastern Ukraine. So FIFA gave the Cup to Belgium and the Netherlands, and they didn’t have much chance to get ready. Less than three years.”

Peach made a face. “Less than three years? Like you need three years to build a few stadiums?”

“Uh, yeah, you kind of do.”

“Haven’t you been watching TS?” She meant _Life in Equestria, featuring Twilight Sparkle_. The show’s title was a mouthful, so it had a slew of nicknames.

“Yeah, most of the time.” Recent episodes had been about Twilight’s work preparing Cloudsdale for the Equestria Games.

“Well, the city that hosts the Equestria Games only gets six months to get ready! And Cloudsdale has extra challenges. All those cloud-supported fields they’re putting in!”

“Well… to be fair,” I pointed out, “the Equestria Games aren’t nearly the size of our own Olympics, or even the World Cup. Your population’s a lot lower.”

Peach sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. But wow. Three years isn’t enough? It seems like such a long time.”

I waved toward the TV, now showing a sweeping helicopter shot of Rotterdam. “Well, it _was_ enough! Even if they didn’t get all the stadiums ready in time and had to reschedule.”

Peach was thoughtful as she ate. I sat and watched the commentary for a while.

“Hey Pepper? Do you think ponies are better are improvising than humans?”

“Improvising?” I asked with my mouth full. I thought while I chewed and swallowed. “Maybe! Why do you say that?”

“Well, I get the idea we don’t do _nearly_ as much planning in Equestria. But maybe it’s because we don’t need it!”

That was an interesting idea. “You just wing it if problems crop up?”

“Sure.” It was Peach’s turn to talk with food in her mouth, and for a moment I wondered whether I should set a better example, until I remembered this problem wasn’t unique to Earth. “Or heroes show up and save the day.”

“Heroes? Like Twilight and her friends?”

“Or some kid about to get their cutie mark. Or whoever. Everyone has their day to shine!”

“If only,” I said.

“You don’t think so?”

I looked at her straight-on. “You think everyone gets a day to shine?”

“At least!” She studied me like she was trying to pick something out. “Everyone knows that.”

“That sounds like something parents tell their kids.”

“Well, sure! How do you think everyone knows it?”

I adjusted myself on the couch as if stabilizing for battle. “But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“No… but it’d be kind of silly for parents everywhere to tell their kids something that _isn’t_ true.”

“Really? Don’t you have myths like the tooth fairy?”

“Like what?”

“The tooth fairy. Parents tell their kids if they lose a tooth, they just have to put it under their pillow and the tooth fairy will come and exchange it for a coin or something while they’re sleeping.”

Peach leaned in credulously. “ _Really?_ ”

“No! I mean, yes, we really tell our kids that. But the parents change out the lost teeth themselves.”

She sat gaping. “But that’s… why would they do that?”

“To… give the kids something to believe in, I guess? Oh, that’s right. We decided you don’t really have fantasy, do you?”

“Why do we need fantasy to give foals something to believe in? They can believe in their own futures.”

“In which everyone has their day to shine.”

“Exactly!”

I knew I was getting macabre, but I couldn’t stop myself. “What about if a kid dies when they’re just a baby? Before they learn how to do anything?”

Peach sat back, stricken. “That’s horrible!”

“I know. But still.”

“Well okay, so maybe not literally everyone shines,” she conceded, still upset. “But aside from some tragedy like that…”

“I don’t think so, Peach.” I saw her sit further back in dismay, crossing one front leg in front of the other. “People on Earth can work their whole lives in coal mines or tiny farms or huge factories and never get anywhere.”

“But… you don’t necessarily need to _get_ somewhere in order to have just one important day,” Peach pointed out.

“Most people have at least a few important days in their life, sure. But there’s no guarantee of even that.”

It looked like she was being convinced. “But you don’t know it’s _not_ true, do you?”

I considered. “I guess I can’t tell you the name of someone who lived their whole life and never had an important day. Because if there were people like that, I would never have heard of them. You get what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” said the pony in front of me. “You know what I think?”

“Yes?”

“I think you earthlings need destinies.”

The whistle for the second half kickoff kept me from having to figure out how to react. We broke off from our debate and turned to the tube. As the minutes rolled by, the two dominant French forwards got a little too aggressive and started racking up fouls. The Americans started taking shots and the crowd was getting excited.

“You think they’ll let Equestria play in the next World Cup?” asked Peach out of nowhere.

Oddly enough, I’d heard some of the Germany-Czech Republic game on the radio at work, and the commentators had discussed just that. “I don’t think so,” I told Peach. “Probably just friendly games. There’s just too much that’s different for it to be fair.”

Peach nodded, accepting this. “Well, if you want to see Equestrian soccer in action, just watch the Games. Cloudsdale’s team may actually have a chance this year.”

I cracked a smile without meaning to. “Home team advantage, you mean?”

“Yeah, that and the fact that the field is built on clouds. They say the turf feels different. Squishy, I guess. Cloud walkers should perform better on it. And they’re used to the high altitude air, too.”

This was so weird. The details of pony sports were so much wilder, and funnier. “I think you’re right,” I decided. “Ponies are better at improvising.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

I waved my hand. “With all the weird random stuff you’ve got to deal with, you’ve got to be.”

I saw a little smile creep onto Peach’s face. She swept her tail in front of herself.

Twenty minutes later, a little-known American wingback created a moment of glory for himself with a sudden forty yard goal. The crowd went crazy, his teammates went crazy, the announcers went crazy. I thumped my fist into my hand and Peach stood up on the couch. I glanced over for a second and saw her beaming. I knew what she was thinking—one more light had had its chance to shine.

Like you can get to the level of international football competition without having shined a bunch of times already. But I wasn’t going to say that.

France regained its discipline in the game’s last stages, and they scored with nine minutes left on the clock. I didn’t take it hard—I’d been expecting it. I just grimaced as I stood. But Peach? She somehow managed to tumble over the back of the couch!

I raced around. “What happened?”

Her legs were scrambled, but she straightened up without help. “I just got upset,” she said.

“How did you fall over the back? That’s ridiculous.”

She smiled and shrugged, straightening up the cushions with a blue glow. “I gots talents, I guess.”

“How come you’re getting into this so much?” I teased. “It’s not your country playing.”

She looked up at me. “I may not be a citizen, but this country still means something to me!”

Those eyes. I actually felt personally honored that she felt that way about the good old USA. As if I were its ambassador, or some kind of national treasure. “But you’re not gonna stay here forever, right?” I asked softly.

She glanced off to the side. “I don’t know.”

I knelt and gave her a hug.

France won in overtime. We made noise together.

Once we’d calmed down, Peach levitated her empty plate to the kitchen ahead of me. I grinned and gently dropped my own plate on top of her floating one. They both dipped a few inches, but bobbed back up. “Hey!” she objected.

I graciously took both plates and carried them to the dishwasher. “So that’s it for Team USA. France’ll go up against Argentina next week.”

“You don’t seem too disappointed,” Peach observed.

“Like I said, we weren’t expected to win. It was cool enough being up for a while.”

“Are you going to watch the rest of the games?”

“Probably not. I’ll check the results online, but I don’t think I’ll bother watching.”

“Aww. But this was fun!”

A thought occurred to me as I sat at my kitchen table. “So do you still look down on fans?”

“Hm?”

“Your poem of the day? Do you still say ‘Play if you can’, and ‘YOLO’?”

“Oh!” Peach looked embarrassed. “Well. I guess it’s a lot more fun being a sports fan if you have someone to do it with.”

I grinned and stroked my fingers through her mane before realizing that might be overstepping my bounds. “I think you’re on to something.”

She didn’t seem to mind the stroking. “You know what we should do?”

“What?”

“We should watch the next Twilight Sparkle together.”

I could feel my face light up. “You’re on!”

“I can root for the ponies being great improvisers, and you can root for everything falling apart,” she joked.

“Nah. I like improvisers. We’ll root for the ponies together.”

We hugged again. There wasn’t anything more to say.

At work that afternoon, I imagined legions of ponies in jerseys pouring into Brussels and Amsterdam from over the water, over the land, from portals in the sky. I imagined them populating the stadiums and fielding teams against the best the human world had to offer. I imagined insane bicycle kicks and scissor kicks and players landing flat on their faces and shaking it off. I imagined pony fans in the stands waving huge banners and wearing elaborate make-up and hovering over the highest bleachers to get a better view. I imagined games of soccer more amazing than any the world had ever known.

I didn’t even know if the pony teams were winning in my fantasies. It wasn’t about who was going to win the match. The point was that everyone was winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> When the World Cup rolled around a couple months ago, and I realized that my pony story in progress just happened to be set in the exact month the -next- World Cup would be taking place, I couldn't resist.
> 
> I was inspired by an experience of my own. Every Summer Solstice, I go on an exceptionally long walk or bike ride to some ambitiously distant local destination, and I call it the Summer Solstice Adventure. During these trips, I make a point of being more spontaneous and quixotic than usual. This year, after I walked to the highest point in Minneapolis, I came back through Dinkytown and happened to run across the newest light rail line in my metro area, the Green Line, which had opened less than a week before. I couldn't not ride it, so I decided to take the next train that happened by, and I wound up outside Target Field, home of the Minnesota Twins. Well, there wasn't a baseball game that day, but there did happen to be a World Cup match showing on a huge screen outside the stadium, with a couple hundred people sitting on the grass and concrete to watch. I'm not a sports fan, and I hadn't been following the Cup aside from hearing about the Group of Death, but I was there, so I watched too! I saw the U.S. almost make World Cup history by being the first team to beat Portugal after Portugal took a lead, until Silvestre Varela managed an equalizing header in stoppage time. Surrounded by all those excited fans, alternately fired up, tense, excited and dismayed, it may have been my first genuine sports fandom experience.
> 
> This was also the first chapter I've written with my new document organizing program, Scrivener. I bought Scrivener to help me organize a fantasy novel I'm writing, but it was useful here in that it allowed me to quickly access and search the previous Pony Upstairs chapters for reference. It's a versatile program originally designed for the Mac and oriented toward completing first drafts. I recommend it.


	11. Dinner Party

WHEN I’D ACCEPTED Laurie’s invitation to dinner two weeks earlier, I’d told her weekends were good for me. But the truth was, I’d had to specifically ask not to be scheduled for Saturday evening. I’d been too embarrassed to tell Laurie that after four years at the garden center I still didn’t have a steady schedule. Laurie had secured one she liked after just two years, and I had coworkers who’d been hired well after me who’d had their requests for regular schedules honored.

For a while, I’d just been too shy to ask. But when I eventually did, my boss Vanessa had given me examples of excellent or beyond-the-call-of-duty work my colleagues had done. She didn’t give a reason for telling me, but I got the drift. Stable schedules are a reward for quality work, and apparently just doing my job and not making any big screw-ups wasn’t enough. Just the same, I worked up my courage to ask again a few months later, and got the exact same treatment. Suddenly I could see some advantages to being shy.

On the bright side, my boss generally let me have time off when I asked in advance, even if she did have a sort of resigned tone about it. Saturday night was like that, but it didn’t keep me from having to work the rest of Saturday. I was about to head off to work when I remembered I hadn’t checked Peach’s blog that morning. Maybe she’d said something about her dinner plans?

 

* * *

  


[Posted: 6/23/18 by Peach] 

Pony should pony pony. In fact, in my view, pony has a moral imperative to pony pony. Will explain l8r.

7 COMMENTS  
  


* * *

  


Well, that was good for a laugh. I’d let her off the hook for not mentioning me.

One of the comments was from George:

Oh believe me, duck, I do. I pony pony most every day.

I found myself wondering on the ride to work whether Peach had seen George recently. And if so, whether he was being chaste, like we’d agreed. I also wondered whether Peach would have posted about it one way or the other. So far, she wasn’t chronicling her life on Earth so much as just sharing observations about the culture here. She was starting to get readers and they were starting to ask stuff about her. One reader with a stallion’s face for an avatar wanted to know whether she was available. She hadn’t answered. I wondered whether he was really an Equestrian stallion or just a brony.

I tried distracting myself with thoughts about Jack and Laurie, but it didn’t lift my mood. I remembered the first time I’d seen Jack after the cataclysm, two and a half years ago. He’d been in denial, echoing the talking points of people who thought it was all a big joke. It was really awkward, because I got the idea he didn’t _really_ think it was all a huge media conspiracy, but he kept talking like he really wanted it to be. “They kept saying journalism was dying—maybe it finally kicked the giant bucket.” Stuff like that.

As far as I knew, Jack had never met a pony. But then, until a few weeks ago, neither had I.

Schedules were posted at work for the upcoming two weeks. After changing into my uniform, I wandered into the staff hallway to check them out.

A familiar sinking feeling hit my throat and stomach. I went to find my boss.

“Hey, Vanessa?”

“Yeah.” She was waiting for some label sheets of barcodes to print out.

“I just looked at the schedule, and I’m only on three days next week, and four days the week after, but two of them are half shifts.”

“Uh yeah.” She faced me, kind of. “Ben’s back from medical leave, so he’s on part-time for a while.”

I stood there, irritated by the incompleteness of what she was telling me. “So… is this going to…” She was just looking and waiting for me to finish. “Am I going to get my hours back, or what?”

I could tell she was holding back her own irritation. “Depends on how the new trainees work out. Claire and Amal? They might just stick around until we finish the outdoor section, or they could stay ‘til winter, or I could take them on. Too soon to say.”

The ‘outdoor section’ was an area behind the store featuring landscaping elements. The space had been used inefficiently for potted plants and timbers, and we’d taken on new help to build it up and reorganize. I hadn’t imagined the need for more work would lead to me _losing_ hours.

“But if there’s not enough work for everyone plus Ben, why did we hire them?”

“Because we didn’t have enough staff to rework the section with Ben out,” she explained as if it were obvious. “Now it’s almost done and he’s back, so we’re overstaffed for a while.”

I had more questions, but I felt like I’d already pushed my luck. “So the schedules could keep looking like this? Until winter?”

“Yeah.” Vanessa took her printed sheets and didn’t look at me again. I got the idea there was no guarantee I’d have my hours back even when winter came—she could easily take on one of the seasonal workers as year-round and fire me. I was getting signals this was far from out of the question.

Work was not fun. I now had a wide variety of disturbing thoughts to occupy me when I wasn’t helping someone. I did more math in my head that day than I had in a long time. Mainly calculations of dollars. Time per hour, rent, utilities, bus cards. Was there anyone who’d be happy to give me a shift now and then? Anyone with more hours than they wanted? Not likely, or they wouldn’t have a job like this.

I was gritting my teeth as I knocked on Peach’s door, but I tried to be presentable. _You’re visiting a unicorn, Ron. A pretty little pastel unicorn. Smile when you see her._

But I didn’t smile. I gaped.

She was dressed up, and she looked _good._ It was… it was a cocktail dress! Or gown? I didn’t know, but it had shape, and it was electric blue, and there was this herringbone pattern of little slits up the front that made it look like it was flying apart just a little from its own power. The lace bottom added to the effect, and the whole thing matched her eyes. And the pair of blue anklets on her right hind leg, just hovering there like a space age antenna. And what held it all together was the silver sash she’d been wearing the night we watched Mister Rogers. Aside from the sash and anklets, there was no sign of the clothes she’d had that day, and this dress seemed to fit a lot better.

“Pepper! Do you like it?” Now _she_ was smiling.

“You look amazing,” I managed.

“Kellydell helped. It’s all about bunching the fabric and tying the sash in just the right place.”

I looked her over without coming in. “So is this a… a woman’s dress?”

“Yeah. But it looks almost like it was made for a mare, doesn’t it?”

It really did. I was proud to ride the train in the seat across from Peach, and I even felt a little protective. It felt like someone dressed like this should ride in a cab, and I’d been really tempted to hail one, but all my worries of money came back to me.

“I think it looks really good,” she told me on the train, “but I don’t know if I should even be wearing anything. Do you think I’ll make your friends uncomfortable? You said Jack is kind of weird about ponies, right?”

“Well, yeah… but that’s in the abstract. I don’t know if he’ll be weird tonight.”

“But you don’t know he won’t. Maybe I should have just stuck with the anklets.”

“I really like the anklets, by the way.”

“Me too! I had one like them when I was younger, but it wasn’t quite the right color, and I think two work better.”

“Like rings of a planet.”

“Like the towers in my cutie mark, I was going to say.”

“Oh yeah.” I realized that if I was ever going to ask what I’d wanted to ask, but been afraid to, ever since I’d met Peach Spark, this was the time. “So… I think I probably know you well enough now to ask. What does your cutie mark mean?”

She looked at me in surprise. For a moment I was afraid I’d committed a huge _faux pas_. She gave her head a little tilt and said, “You haven’t figured it out?”

I felt about as dumb as… well, as I had that morning talking to my boss. “I mean, I understand it’s a spark. And your name is Spark. But… but does that mean you’re really smart, or you’ve got the spark of life, or…”

“When I burn designs into tiny things, like silicon chips or grains of rice, you could say I do it with a spark. It doesn’t happen all at once—I have to make the design line by line, dot by dot.”

“So that’s why.”

“I used to think so.”

I swallowed. “Used to?”

Her head was up and her eyes were locked on mine. “That explains the spark, but why the two towers?”

“I thought they were rods, like in a Jacob’s Ladder.”

“Either way. Rods, towers… it isn’t just a spark in a vacuum. It connects things.”

“Oh,” I said, waiting for more. Then I realized. “ _Oh._ You’re a connector. A connector of worlds.”

She gathered her legs, her front hooves dangling off the front of the seat. “I think that’s why I’m here.”

“That’s why—when did you realize it? As soon you learned about our world?”

“No. I just thought it about was my magical talent, and how I’m good with electronics. Even after I came here, I don’t think I’d really made the connection.” She smiled wryly. “So to speak. It was George who helped me realize.”

I tried not to wince on the outside. “So he’s been good for you.”

Her ears went up. “Yeah, definitely. And I might not have met him without your help.”

How did she think that made me feel? “You’ve been seeing him a lot?”

“You’re being jealous,” Peach said in a small voice. “Please stop.”

“Sorry.” I hadn’t thought I’d been that obvious. So I was caught. What could I say now?

“I’m here tonight, with you,” she went on. “To meet your friends. And George isn’t here. What more could you want?”

 _I want you to choose me_ , I thought. “You’re right. I appreciate it.”

Her ears relaxed along with her posture. “It isn’t easy for me either, you know.”

I reflected on that. “Yeah. I know.”

We got to our stop in silence. There was a six block walk through working class houses. The kinds of yards we passed were varied, but the streets were bleakly flat and straight.

“So, I found out today my hours are being cut,” I said into the bleakness.

Peach looked at me sharply. “Your hours? You mean how much you work?”

“Yeah.”

She trotted in relative silence on the grass bay while I stuck to the sidewalk. “Well that’s a good thing, right?”

“Uh, no. No, it’s not.”

“You’d rather work more?”

“If I’m getting paid for it, yeah. I’m not salaried like you, Peach. If they cut my hours, I get paid less.”

“So why are they cutting your hours?”

“Bad planning, basically. One of our workers went on leave for surgery, and the bosses decided to start a big spring project. So they hired two new people, and now the guy’s recovered from surgery and working again, and the project’s nearly done, so there’s not enough work for everyone.”

Peach listened carefully—I could tell she was having a little trouble following. “But isn’t it good if there’s not as much work?”

“Again, no. Less work means less pay.”

“That’s—” She cut herself off. “And this isn’t because of anything you’ve done? They’re not punishing you?”

“Not to my knowledge. My boss doesn’t like me much, but I do my job just fine.”

“And they can do that? They can just decide to pay you less?”

“Yep. It’s not a union job, but even if it was, I doubt it’d make a difference here.”

Peach looked troubled. “That’s not fair.”

I shrugged. I didn’t feel like parsing whether it was fair or not.

“So does this mean you need me to pay you the rest of that money back right away?”

I sighed. “Not exactly. It won’t make a difference until my next check, and I’ve got rent for July. But I’m not sure what I’m gonna do after that.”

I could tell I’d unsettled Peach—she stared into the gloomy dusk. “Would you like me to help out?”

I sighed again, more inwardly. “I’d been hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

“So then, no?”

“I don’t know. I might need a loan down the road,” I muttered.

“If you keep track of the money,” she told me, “I’ll loan you whatever you need. You gave me a loan for my TV.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I don’t want to worry about it for now.”

She paused. “Okay.” And we walked on.

Laurie and Jack’s place had lights on. They lived in a terraced townhouse, and it was odd to see lights shining in all the windows of just one section. Most of the other houses nearby were dark, or nearly dark. Was it just because the sky wasn’t quite dark yet, or didn’t they need much light? Was no one home? Some houses had curtains drawn.

I clapped the knocker while Peach stood there in her slightly disheveled dress. Laurie came to the door. She looked down from my face to Peach before saying a word. “You’re here! Come on in.” And after a moment: “Hi, I’m Laurie, you must be Peach.”

“Yeah,” said Peach. “Nice to meet you.”

It quickly became obvious that Laurie was nervous and Peach was even more so. Why should that be? Just because they were meeting someone new? No, it was because they were different, that’s all. And why should that matter? They weren’t _that_ different, and I liked them both.

“I met Laurie originally on the internet,” I told Peach while we settled on the sofa. “In a political forum.” I figured maybe I could break the ice, chip by chip.

“Oh yeah?” asked Peach.

“That was forever ago!” laughed Laurie. “I think of you more as one of Barrett’s friends.”

“Barrett?” asked Peach.

“Friend of mine from college. He lived here in Elizabeth and I’d come visit in the summers… he had a bunch of buds and we’d hit the Big Apple together.”

“That sounds like fun! And then you met Laurie?”

“Yeah,” said Laurie, “he found out I was local and invited me to one of their get-togethers. That’s how we met in person and from then on I invited him to stuff.”

“But before that, you knew him on a political forum?”

“Yeah,” said Laurie, putting one foot up on her own coffee table. “I don’t know if you know, but Ron here is a pretty good troll.”

Peach looked astonished at me. “A troll?”

“Not like the Glen Troll,” I put in hastily, referring to a Season Six villain who’d held the knowledge of Equestria hostage. “She means like… someone who picks a fight just for the fun of it, but who doesn’t even mean it.”

She only looked a little less concerned. “You used to pick fights?”

“Only for the sake of argument!” I said, embarrassed. “I thought it was kind of… kind of short-sighted how a group of people can get so fired up about a cause that they start all believing one thing.” Now I was the nervous one, looking to Laurie for her reaction. “Even if the issue’s more complicated than that.”

“Ron likes stirring up trouble, or at least he used to,” said Laurie. “He pissed off a lot of people at Sustainable Future, but I liked it.”

“So you’re an activist?” Peach asked Laurie.

“Oh yeah. Off and on, but I try to live the way I want people to live.”

Peach puzzled over that. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“You’d be surprised. Some people want one standard for themselves and another for the rest of the world.” She glanced toward the kitchen, from which a rich hot smell and the sound of sizzling in a pan were gearing up our appetites. Then she noticed us noticing. “Jack was like that when I met him.”

“And you managed to change him?” asked Peach.

“On some level,” shrugged Laurie. “If nothing else, he eats a lot better now. He used to be a burgers and fries guy, and now he’s a better cook than I am.”

“But you’re not married yet, are you?”

Laurie lowered her voice. “Not yet. We both wanted to try things out first. Who knows, maybe someday soon.”

Peach nodded, making intense eye contact with Laurie. She seemed to be struggling for something to say, but it looked like my friends had connected sooner than I’d expected.

“Should we go and meet Jack?” I suggested.

Laurie paused. “Sure,” she agreed. So we all went out to the kitchen.

Jack was poised in front of the stove like a beast in his element. White spatula in his hand, hair pushed back under a colorful worn-out bandana, toes of one boot on the handle of the lower convection oven. There was a saucepan bubbling, and the stuff in the skillet was just as colorful as the bandana, but mushier than I expected. It smelled great, but I couldn’t tell what it was.

“Heard you talking about me,” he greeted us.

“Jack, you know Ronald,” said Laurie. “And this is his friend Peach.”

He looked her over. “Huh. You’re wearing clothes.”

Peach shied back. “I wasn’t supposed to?”

Laurie looked annoyed, but got her cool back. “No, Peach, your line is: ‘So are you.’”

She looked hesitant to say that to Jack, who was a bit intimidating at six foot two. I jumped in. “It’s fine, Peach. So what’s for dinner?”

Jack turned his attention to the stovetop, where he was keeping something from sticking to the skillet. “Veggie manicotti. It’ll be ready in half an hour. You probably don’t want to watch the magic happening—you might lose your appetite.”

“Sorry, folks,” said Laurie. “I thought he was going to be on it sooner.”

“Well, you said seven thirty or eight, right?” replied Jack. “It’ll be ready by around eight.”

“If I say seven thirty or eight, that means aim to finish somewhere in between,” countered Laurie.

“Guess you should’ve said between,” said Jack. “Don’t worry, the wait’ll be worth it. Hey Laurie, show ‘em our trip photos.”

“Really? That’s what boring hosts do,” said Laurie.

“Well then talk,” said Jack. “I’m sure you can find something to do.”

I was about ready to apologize to Peach, but she asked: “You went on a trip?”

“Drove up to the Catskills,” answered Jack. “Went hiking, climbed a mountain, did some trout fishing.”

Peach blinked. “You did what?”

He looked at her again. “Trout fishing? You can’t get much better trout than from the Beaverkill.”

“From the _what?_ ”

This conversation was going to be a minefield, wasn’t it? “It’s a river,” I said. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind taking a look at your pics. Probably some good views, huh?”

“All right, lemme fire up the pad,” said Laurie, heading back into the living room. “C’mon.”

But Jack wasn’t done with Peach. “You never heard of fishing?”

Peach quailed a little. “Is that like hunting?”

“Sure.” Jack scraped the bottom of the skillet a little more dramatically than he had to. “Hunting in the water. Only this was fly fishing, so it’s more like tricking the fish than spearing them would be.”

“Fly fishing? I’ve heard of that. It’s something griffons do.”

“Really?”

“They fly over the water,” said Peach quietly, “and skim fish out in their talons.”

“Uhh…”

“Then they murder them.”

Okay. Laurie and I were back in the living room but Peach wasn’t leaving the kitchen. I tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Jack was laughing. “You kidding? That’s what fly fishing is on your side?”

“So that’s not what we’re talking about?”

“Nope.” Jack reduced the heat and took a pan out of the oven. “Flies are the bait. Little insects, you know?” He mimed swatting one, which made Peach flinch. “You stick ‘em on hooks, cast the hooks into the water, fish bite ‘em and choke.” He started stuffing manicotti. “That’s when you murder them.”

“Wow, Jack,” said Laurie.

“Is he serious?” asked Peach.

“He’s not lying, but he’s being a fucking lot more grim than he needs to be.” Laurie glared at Jack, who looked at her and shrugged.

“You _murder fish?!_ ” shouted Peach.

“Peach, please,” I pled. “Calm down and come in here and we’ll talk.”

“It’s not murder,” retorted Jack. “They’re just dumb animals. I was being facetious.”

“Nah, I get where she’s coming from,” said Laurie. “I used to feel that way, back when I was a teen. I was vegetarian, would’ve been vegan if I didn’t like pizza so much. I didn’t want to kill anything.”

Peach finally turned and left the kitchen. She went for the couches in a huff. “But now you’re fine with killing?”

“If it’s done in a sustainable way, yeah. I hate how we’re overfishing the planet dry.”

“Peach, you knew we eat meat,” I said.

She looked helplessly at me. “Yeah, but I thought it was done humanely somehow. Like on farms.”

“Farms can be some of the worst—” Laurie started, but I cut her off.

“Please, Laurie. Peach, I’m sorry. We should have probably talked about this.”

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds like it would’ve been fun.”

I didn’t know what to say. Laurie picked up for me, joining us at the couches around the coffee table. “Aside from fish, most meat we humans eat comes from large-scale ranches and farms. Cattle, chickens and pigs especially. But we do hunt animals in the wild sometimes, and honestly, if that were the _only_ meat we ate, the world would be a much better place.”

It looked like Peach was near tears, but bouncing back. “Why do you do it?” she asked.

“For food,” said Laurie. “For hides. Because we can.”

Peach blinked at her. And looked at me.

“This is all going in your blog, isn’t it?” I asked.

“You have a blog?” asked Laurie cheerfully.

It wasn’t the most awkward pre-dinner conversation I ever had, since I remembered meeting Cindy’s parents, but it was definitely top five. We did eventually get to the pictures, but only after we had a frank and difficult discussion of the worldwide meat industries, venturing into human prehistory and Laurie’s experiences at an animal rights protest in Cincinnati. Peach seemed to be bolstering herself up, like how tissue forms over a wound. She asked questions and offered very little. And then Jack called out that dinner was ready.

I kept wondering whether I’d been a jerk for accepting this invitation. Half of me felt terrible for hurting Peach, and the other half felt like it was somehow good for her.

Anyway, the manicotti was good. And there was wine.

“No meat in this, right?” asked Peach.

“Not a morsel,” said Jack. “Mashed cauliflower, summer squash, shredded carrot, spinach, collards, and three kinds of cheese.”

“Mmm,” said Laurie.

“I like the sauce,” said Peach.

“Try the wine,” suggested Jack. “It’s an Arneis. Or don’t you drink?”

“Oh I drink,” said Peach, lifting the bottle in an aura of blue that matched her dress. “When the time is right.” The way she said it left no doubt that time was now.

We talked about Peach’s blog. Jack seemed disinterested, and Laurie was disappointed that Peach didn’t have many readers yet. She had some suggestions for advertising—mainly the ways _she’d_ found her favorite blogs and news sources. Peach seemed to appreciate it but still wasn’t too enthusiastic.

There were peas, too. Did I mention the peas? Very nicely cooked, as peas go.

I drank because it would have felt standoffish not to. I did try to go slow, though, because I was afraid of losing what little control I had. Peach liked the wine and did not go slow. Neither did Jack.

“So what’s it like, being a pony?” Jack eventually asked. He was leaning forward over his half-eaten plate, but his posture seemed more defensive than fascinated.

Peach, now tipsy, took a moment to process the question. “You know that’s, like, an impossible question to answer, right?”

“How can it be impossible to answer? And it’s not like I can answer it.”

Peach strove to make eye contact. “I’ve been a pony for my whole life. For most of my life I didn’t know anyone who wasn’t. How am I supposed to know what’s different about being a pony and… and not?”

Jack snorted. “You’re here, aren’t you? You can look at us and see how we are.”

“We should read her blog,” suggested Laurie amiably.

“Yeah,” defended Peach.

“Why should I have to read your blog? You’re here now. Can’t you tell us what you’ve learned?”

“I’m learning that human dinner parties are kind of awkward!”

Laurie chuckled, spraying wine. “Depends on the culture.”

“You know what I mean, and that doesn’t count,” pressed Jack.

“If that doesn’t count then I don’t know what you mean.”

Jack took a bite of manicotti, weighed it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “What is it like, physically? On a physical level.”

“Why are you asking—” I was going to say, … _my girlfriend about physical things?_ But then I remembered she wasn’t my girlfriend.

“Physically? It’s swell. I don’t know. I like being able to lift stuff with magic, even some of my unicorn friends can’t do that.”

“That must be pretty cool,” agreed Jack. “So how do you do it? I mean, do you feel the thing in your mind before you lift it?”

I instantly resented the fact that he was asking questions I hadn’t even asked myself yet, out of respect. Or shyness. Which were really two sides of the same coin, now that my slightly drunken self thought about it. “Jack. Dude.”

“What?”

I wasn’t sure how to phrase my complaint, so I heard my mouth say, “You don’t ask a lady that.”

There was a pause and then Laurie broke out laughing. Peach started laughing too, then, and even Jack joined in. I stared at them all. Then I laughed too, and we all sat making dumb little spurts of laughter.

“It’s like feeling, but it’s not,” said Peach suddenly. “It’s a different sense.”

The laughter went away fast. “So you’ve got six senses?”

“I guess!”

Jack was on a roll. “So, you don’t need to see something to lift it, right?”

“Right, as long as I know where it is.”

“What if someone moved whatever it is since you last saw it?”

“It’s like if I groped for it. I’d try and it wouldn’t be there and I’d feel stupid.”

“What if you know something’s there but not what it is? Could you lift it up then?”

Peach stared, sitting forward with her hind legs in her chair and her front legs resting on the table. Eventually she said, “I’ve got a friend called Second Sight. She said when she got her job, they asked her tons of questions like these. She says if I want to work for her lab, I probably could, and I sometimes wondered what that interview would be like.” Everyone was silent. “Now I guess I know.”

“Jack,” said Laurie, “quit giving her the third degree.”

“No, that’s fine,” insisted Peach, coming a little closer to actually standing on the table. “If there’s stuff you want to know, ask.”

“I already asked,” said Jack, taking a bite.

“What did you ask? What happens if I know something’s there but not what? I can lift it but I have to grope it first. Same as you and your hands, probably.”

“You’re getting kind of worked up, Peach,” I said.

“It’s this guy,” she said, pointing at Jack. “He’s working me up.”

“I’ll be quiet,” said Jack, who was being pretty nonchalant.

“We should play something,” Peach went on. “Something physical.”

“We’re not done with dinner yet,” said Laurie. “And we don’t have any physical games.”

“We have Twister,” said Jack.

“Perfect,” said Peach, finally getting back into her chair. “Let’s play Twister.”

“We’re not playing Twister,” said Laurie.

Peach sat there staring ahead. “My pony friends would play Twister with me.”

“You’re drunk,” said Laurie. “We shouldn’t have let you have so much.”

“I’ll play,” I offered. “If we get to finish eating first.” I tried to hide both my excitement and my apprehension.

“Yeah, let’s finish.” Laurie made eye contact with me as if to ask what you do with a drunken pony. As if I would know.

So we finished eating. Peach took one last big helping of peas and swilled them down like she was licking the plate. Then she went back to the living room and stood there. “So are we playing Twister or what?”

I joined her, sitting on a plush faux-leather couch while she stood. “You have Twister in Equestria?”

“We have a game called Twistabout. I’m guessing it’s the same basic thing. You follow the instructions and all get tangled up with each other?”

I nodded. “Are you sure you want to do that? You just met Jack and Laurie.”

She looked at me plaintively. “It’s all in good fun, isn’t it? Isn’t it an innocent game?”

“…I guess so!”

“Jack wants to know what a unicorn can do. Well I want to show him.”

I smiled a little. “Do you always get this way when you’re drunk?”

“What way?”

I shrugged. I was a little tipsy myself. “Loud and… insistent?”

“Loud, maybe. Insist-insistent?” She pronounced the word like she had to fight to figure out what it meant. “Only if I have something worth insisting on. Remember how I was at the ranch?”

My smile got bigger. “You weren’t happy until you’d ridden a horse and been ridden yourself.”

“Right. I was insistent then and I wasn’t drunk then, was I?”

“I guess not.”

 _“Was I?”_

“I guess not!” I repeated.

“There you go,” Peach concluded, sitting down on the floor.

Laurie joined us. “How’re we feeling?”

“Insistent,” said Peach.

“Really?”

“I don’t know. I’m drunk. I don’t think Equestrian wine has so much alcohol.”

“That makes sense.” Laurie watched Peach for a while. “Well, I feel like a lousy hostess. You want to talk?”

Peach nodded.

Laurie sat down. “So how’d you two meet?”

Peach pointed at me. “This guy gave me an upside-down cake.”

“He did what?”

“Pineapple,” I said.

“Oh. I didn’t know you made upside-down cake, Ron!”

I smiled and maybe blushed. “I found a recipe.”

Laurie pointed at Peach. “Just for her?”

“Yeah. I heard a pony’d moved in and I wanted to meet her.” I smiled bashfully at Peach, who smiled back.

“And… are you dating?” Funny how Laurie hadn’t asked that before.

Peach frowned over at me. “No, it got complicated.” She turned sharply back to Laurie. “Are we supposed to be dating?”

Laurie looked to me for help, but I didn’t have any. “No, I was just asking.”

“Seriously, is that what people expect? Am I supposed to be dating him or I can’t come to dinner with him? I’m not making a point here. I genuinely don’t know.” She pointed at me but looked vaguely at Laurie. “He was coming to visit me once and some jerkbutt on the stairs called me a ‘slut’.” Laurie was about to speak but Peach cut her off. “And I’m _not_ a slut,” she clarified. “Pepper had to explain to me what that meant. But I guess we were supposed to be dating back then, so we were already breaking the rules. And now I’m here _still_ breaking the rules and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I got up and put my hand on Peach’s shoulder. She smiled up at me, almost smugly, like she’d proven a point.

“I guess that’s a ‘no’, then?” said Laurie. “It’s fine either way. And I’m sure you’re not a slut and I’m sorry some asshole called you that.”

Peach laughed. “What’s an asshole?”

“It’s…” Laurie trailed off.

“It sounds funny,” said Peach.

“It’s where the shit comes out,” called Jack from the kitchen. I hadn’t even known he’d been listening.

Peach frowned. “Is that like bodily waste?” she asked unsteadily.

“Yup,” he replied.

“Jesus, Jack,” said Laurie.

“I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore,” said Peach. “But it’s disgusting.”

“I’m really sorry, “ said Laurie. “You want some water? Maybe rest a while?”

She looked back at me. “No, I want to play Twister.”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” Laurie replied.

“Well tough. You made me think about doodoo, that’s how you can make it up to me. Teach me how to play Twister.”

“Ron?” Laurie was pleading with me to take control.

I took a deep breath. “Sure, I’ll play.”

“You’re doing Twister?” called Jack. “I’m in.”

Peach looked smugly at Laurie. “Your boyfriend may be a jerk but he’s more fun than you are.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” swore Laurie. “Fine. I’ll get the set.”

Peach was twice as drunk as the rest of us, but she whipped us good. Four legs’ll do that for you in a game of balance. She rubbed it in too, laughing out loud at us whenever one of us fell. “You humans invented this game and you can’t do any better than that?”

“It’s meant to be tricky,” I said. “You’re built for standing on all fours.”

“Left hand yellow,” called Jack.

“Why make a game that you’re deliberately bad at?” probed Peach. “That’s like… that’s just so dumb.” She laughed again.

I grinned. “You’re kind of a mean drunk, Peach,” I observed.

She was immediately abashed. “I didn’t mean to be! I was just riffling you. Ruffling you. You know what I mean.”

“It’s more fun this way,” explained Jack. “If it were easy we’d be here all night playing the same game. Right hand red.”

Peach put her right forehoof on a red circle and now she was draped halfway over me. I could see her chest heaving through her dress. I really liked her dress but I wished she wasn’t wearing it.

“All right, Team Human,” declared Laurie. “Let’s take this quadruped down.”

“What? No fair!”

“The game’s already no fair,” she pointed out. “We’ve got to stick together to have a chance.”

Peach nodded seriously. “Okay then. See if you can beat me.”

With Jack as the caller, we couldn’t. With Laurie as the caller, Peach still won, though it was closer. But with me as caller, Laurie and Jack managed to snipe all the easy circles from Peach before she could reach them, and she wound up crossing her legs across each other and eventually having to flip upside-down. “I bet Seaswell would love this game,” she said. “His legs are like noodles. I’m getting a little dizzy.”

“Right foot blue,” I called.

Laurie and Jack swiftly snagged the blue spots near Peach’s left back hoof. She looked panicked for a moment, then made a stab for the nearest one remaining, twisted slowly around like a mobile, and collapsed. “Whoof!”

Jack fell too, but Laurie stayed up. “So we finally got you,” she noted.

“You got me. You tricked me with your dirty tricks, and you got me. And now I’m lying on the floor in a house on Earth because I couldn’t put my hooves on colored dots enough.”

Laurie laughed. “That’s about the size of it.”

Peach rolled over and sprawled out. “This world is weird.”

“You kidding?” said Jack. “Your world is the one with all the crazy stuff.”

Peach was still for a moment. “Says you,” she savored.

“Yeah I say. I thought it was all a hoax ‘til they had Celestia live at the G8 Summit. Even then I wasn’t sure.”

“You thought all us ponies were a hoax?” asked Peach, sounding hurt.

“It sounded so made-up,” said Jack.

“ _You_ sound made-up,” retorted Peach.

“I’m just a guy,” said Jack.

“Well I’m just a girl,” said Peach.

“Come on, everyone,” said Laurie. “Let’s be nice.”

So we all just sat or lay there in silence for a while.

“I miss George,” said Peach.

“Who’s George?” asked Laurie.

“My special somepony,” mumbled Peach.

Huh.

I wondered what I would do if I were sober.

They started asking Peach about how she met George and what dates they’d been on. I knew some of it and didn’t want to know the rest.

“Peach,” I said.

She turned to me, a little nervous. “Yeah?”

“Maybe we should go.”

She frowned. “You think so?”

“You shouldn’t go yet,” said Jack. He had the kind of dumb-ass grin you’d wear if you were on the verge of making a girl get undressed.

“Well my vote doesn’t count,” said Peach, “’cause I don’t know _what’s_ going on.” She wheeled around to Laurie. “So what do you say?”

She looked between me and Jack, concerned. “Yeah, it’s probably about time,” she conceded.

Peach sighed. She climbed, with some difficulty, to her hooves. “Well, it’s been a time.”

“No it hasn’t,” said Jack.

“Yes it has,” countered Peach defensively. She looked from one face to another. “Hasn’t it?”

“Sure it has,” said Laurie.

“Yeah, I was just fooling,” added Jack. He pushed the knuckles of one hand against Peach’s body for a moment, like a fist bump mixed with a pat on the back. “Nice having you over.”

“Thanks for dinner,” I told him and Laurie.

“Anytime,” said Laurie. “You two gonna be all right on the train?”

Peach exchanged a glance with me. “I’m good to go.”

“I can give you a ride,” offered Laurie.

“I think we’re okay,” I said.

We said goodbye and stepped out.

Peach looked around the dark street like she hadn’t seen it already on the way in. Most of the houses had lights on now, so I guess it was kind of different. I felt pretty different too. We started walking.

“So does this mean you’ve chosen?” I asked.

“I’m really sorry,” said Peach. “I’m intoxicated on wine and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were going to choose. Between George and me.” It wasn’t easy getting the words out. “You said he was your special somepony. Does that mean you’ve chosen him?”

“Oh!” Her ears went up and she was thoughtful for a while. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“I guess that’s kind of the problem,” I remarked.

We walked back to the train in silence.

Then Peach started asking a lot of questions. Stuff about townhouses and human dinner traditions (as if there’s such a thing) and was this a dinner party or just a get-together and when was Twister invented? I actually started getting into it enough that I almost forgot how disappointed I was.

I walked her up to her apartment. She stood tall and looked at me for a long time. She seemed sad.

“You gonna be okay, Peach?”

“I think so. I just feel like kind of a lousy friend.”

“Do you remember why?”

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head slowly.

I hugged her around the neck and chest. “Get some sleep.”

I didn’t go to sleep for a while. Watched some TV, took down a load of laundry. Crazy dreams I still remember but don’t want to talk about.

There was no new post from Peach in the morning. I would have liked to go to work that day, but my schedule had been cut, so I went to the park for a poor man’s workout at the exercise stations. Wandered through town, read the Sunday funnies in a coffeeshop, did some light shopping, got home and poked around at some online job listings, just in case. Made dinner.

By the time I was done eating, Peach had a post up. I read it while my tea kettle whistled.

 

* * *

  


[Posted: 6/24/18 by Peach] 

I made some new human friends last night. Then again, it may be too soon to call them friends. I get the idea that word doesn’t get tossed around as early in a relationship on this side as it does on ours.

What I’m not sure about is whether they mean something different by it here or whether they’re just slower to make friends. What I’m leaning toward, though, is a matter of faith. Equestrians meet someone new and we have faith that our relationship with them is going to develop in a positive, mutually constructive way. So we’re comfortable calling them our friend pretty much right away. Terrans meet someone new and they don’t know what the future holds with them. There are any number of ways their relationships can develop and at the beginning all they have is clues. So they use ‘acquaintance’ and hold off on ‘friend’ until the evidence starts rolling in.

In case this seems hard on them, I should be fair and point out that their relationships may be more complex than ours, even when they have good intentions. The path here is longer, and the missteps are better hidden than on our side. The final destination may be prettier too—I wouldn’t know. I’ve only just started walking the path, and I’m already lost.

Oh—and they have manicotti here. Best manicotti of my life last night.

I have to run an errand, but tomorrow you get to hear about Terran wine and their version of Twistabout.

6 COMMENTS

 

* * *

  


I knew I should be irked that she’d written about the dinner party and still hadn’t mentioned me, but when I looked again I saw myself all over that blog post.

I held my face in my hand and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Sorry for the long delay, folks. I have no excuses, but then I make no promises for when my updates come! In case you're wondering, I think we can expect this story to wind up with somewhere between fifteen and twenty chapters.
> 
> It's occurred to me that writing this story has been very valuable to me in a way that my previous pony stories and, indeed, most of my fiction in general hasn't: it's given me motivation to practice working with human characters in something very much like the real world. This, for obvious reasons, is a very useful kind of practice! And this chapter drove it home for me, as I found myself rather proud of my characterization of Laurie and Jack. I find it easy to come up with and develop non-human characters, but for whatever reason, I've always had trouble with human ones. Maybe, at long last, I'm getting past that? (And all it took was ponies.)
> 
> Your question this time around: If you threw a mixed dinner party with humans and ponies, what would you serve, and what activity would you suggest for the group after the meal?


	12. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> This chapter was a little challenging to write, because for once, I had nothing built up that I knew had to happen. Rather, the story had to proceed forward under its own momentum. Now it has direction again, like a cyclist who's crested a hill and is set to coast for a while.
> 
> One of my pre-readers said that he thought if I wanted to end the story, this would be a good stopping point. I can see his point--I wonder if you agree! I'm still estimating as many as 20 chapters in all, and I have to admit I don't know what's going to happen--I just have ideas.
> 
> Your question this time is straightforward enough: how do you define love? Is George right to say that "love is what keeps you going"? Do you think Ron loves Peach? Do you think she loves him? :o)

[ Posted: 6/26/18 by George ]

A big hello to all my fine friends, along with those who aren’t yet. George Harrison at your service—I think our darling Peach has mentioned me once or twice, so it shouldn’t be too great a shock to see my byline here. Like her, I’m an explorer here on Earth. Full disclosure: Peach is a native Equestrian through and through, but not me—I was born in Carnation Town, Summerset, not far from historic Grayvale; spent several of my formative years in Grundle’s Grotto, then took to my hocks and the vicissitudes of strangers for two years and washed up in Galloping Gulch, for all I know because it also began with a ‘G’. I was a pretty ripe fool by that time, but not too foolish to know a good situation when it bit me, so I got by on odd jobs while currying the companionship of those I personally fancied the brightest lights in a settlement on the savage edge of Equestria. Once I’d gotten to know art and culture a bit, I set out to know the world, and naturally, when the world grew a new frontier, I had to poke my nose through and sniff out what was on the other side. That’s the short version, as I know you don’t visit this website to hear a divvy like me prattle on. Just wanted to provide a splattering of background for my perspective before I started in on the topic before us. 

And that topic, friends, is Love. Seeing as how Peach posted the other day about friendship and what it means to folks, and seeing as how Her Highness Princess Cadance is going to be gracing the Capital of the World next month—that’s New York, New York, for those keeping score—I thought it just might be the next logical step. Now love is a slippery word, as poets know better than lovers, and it’s got a hundred definitions, each one of which feels right the moment you hear it. But it’s not just a bundle of ways of saying the same thing over and over—’love’ refers to multiple concepts. Find some bloke who’s just said ‘I promise to love only you’ and ask him whether he doesn’t love his mother and his father, then, and why exactly not? Ask yourself, while you’re at it—can you love a friend while harboring no intentions of anything beyond friendship? Can you love a place? A concept? Is there a different kind of love for each of these things, and if so, what’s the thread that ties them all together? Is to love something just to like it more than the norm, or is it more than a matter of quantity?

Forgive me if I ask a lot of questions—I’ve got a blooming question mark on my heiney. I may have some glimmer of an answer—my own credo on the subject is that love is simply what keeps you going, whatever you may be after. At the lowest level, there’s the love of life we’re all born with, and that keeps us after sustenance and out of most harm’s way. Whatever else we do beyond survive, that’s one stripe of love or another in action. Liking something makes you choose it over something else; loving something is what makes you go out of your way for just a glimpse. But that’s just how I see it, and your perspective’s every inch as valid.

What I wanted to mull over is whether love is a different beast for human beings as it is for us. (Not to exclude Peach’s human readers—be great to hear from you too!) Now, I’m not green enough to claim there’s such a thing as ‘human culture’. The Earth’s too large and global perspectives too recent for any single culture to have permeated worldwide. My point of view is limited to places I’ve been—the American Northeast, Toronto, Vancouver, Denmark, Ile-de-France and Champagne, the United Kingdom, Saint Louis, Reno, San Francisco and Salt Lake City. And even among this meager fraction of the Earth’s lands, there’s more diversity on the subject of love than I bargain you’d find from Dream Valley to Manehattan. The Danes love without walls—they talk plainly about it and aren’t afraid to show tenderness. Salt Lakers seem to have two sides to their love—on the outside it’s a testament to community and Heavenly Father, like a candy shell, but on the inside the juice runs thick. Humans from Paris—that’s the City of Love, so they say—draw a line between emotional love and physical love, and to be frank it lets them run a bit wild. Irish folk, on the other hoof, are cautious about love, and that allows them to glimpse more of its branches but climb fewer, or so it struck me. Frisco once hosted a Summer of Love, and while the love there isn’t free anymore, I got the sense it now flows in every flavor like a whopping rainbow factory. Here in the Big Apple, I don’t even know what to think about love, and believe me, that’s the way I like it.

So is there anything humanfolk have in common when it comes to love, aside from what’s blissfully universal? Well, my gig over here is as an art consultant, which is a step or two below that of actual artist. I’ve been working with museum curators—helping them assemble collections relating to Equestria or advising them on how ponies are likely to take their exhibits, and one such establishment—the Metropolitan—is planning an exhibit on love throughout the ages to coincide with the Princess of Love’s appearance in town. So the Equestrian Curator asks me what the Equestrian attitude toward love is, and she’s really asking what ponyfolk in particular think of it. I’ll tell you what I told her, though it may sound like I’m being unkind to my human friends, and though I haven’t yet found a way to put it adeptly into words.

I feel like humans are given love, or they find it, or create it… whereas with us ponies, it’s simply part of us. We don’t talk much about Love, compared to humans, but as it’s in us from the outset, we don’t need to. Mind, human mothers and their babies seem to have love for each other built in, just as does every other creature under any sun, but that’s not enough to get you through life. That’s just a well-timed push along the way.

Why do I feel this way? Well, when I tried to explain to my friend the curator, it all came out in a big muddle. But if I’m right about love being what keeps us going, and if it’s true every pony has a destiny, and if a destiny is anything like a destination, then we’ve got to have love built right in, or we’ll never get started.

And folks, that’s about the best I can do. If I’ve hurt any feelings, I apologize, and if I’ve opened any doors, I pray they’ll remain that way long enough for someone to slip through.

A little final food for thought: If friendship is magic, what does that leave for love to be?

29 COMMENTS

* * *

Oh god. Seriously?

My stomach felt queasy. I should have known better than to read that before breakfast.

At this point, George’s sentiments to the contrary, I did not want food for thought. A long tract on what George thought of love was about the last thing I’d needed to read, and now I just wanted a blank mind and a new start. I wanted to forget about Peach. I wished it were football season. I even wished I’d been overscheduled for work so I could throw myself into it angrily and blame my boss for my troubles.

But I was underscheduled. After working Monday, I had Tuesday off again.

I had an impulse to bake another cake, like the one I’d made for Peach all those weeks before. Learn a new recipe, start fresh, and share it with Peach if I felt like it. But a healthier part of my mind told me I needed to talk to someone. Trouble was, I’d never been terribly popular and I’d lost most of the friends I did have when I left college. I was friendly with a few of my coworkers, but there’s a difference between having friends and being ‘friendly with’. I kind of wished I could see Kellydell and Seaswell again—they’d seemed nice enough, even if Kellydell was a little snobby--but I didn’t have any way to contact them.

I did call Laurie to thank her for hosting and to apologize for it getting weird. She brushed it off. “The longer I live with Jack, the more used I get to things like this being weird,” she told me.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I mean, he doesn’t really let things go. Not easily. But that just keeps things interesting.”

“You think there’s any chance you two might set a date?” I ventured.

“I really don’t know, Ron. I feel like… I’ve just got to give it time.”

“Have you talked about marriage?”

“Yup. It just doesn’t mean that much to him. Jack says the way he sees it, we’re committed now. But commitments can break. I said, ‘But marriage is a commitment for life’, and he said ‘But it can still break! Look at the divorce rate.’ And I mean, I had to admit he had a point.”

“Not very romantic.”

“No, but I can’t complain—I’m not really the romantic type either. So we’ll just keep on until something happens or it doesn’t.”

The conversation didn’t last long and Peach didn’t really come up. I wondered what George would think of Laurie and Jack’s arrangement.

I then drove it from my mind by throwing myself into a search for a better job out there somewhere. I signed up for services and newsletters, I familiarized myself with listings. I spent the morning feeling like I was getting farther afield from who I was—looking into more and more unlikely-looking jobs and considering ever more intimidating measures to become qualified for them.

It felt strange. _But then again_ , I told myself, _I know my cutie mark isn’t a god-damned flowerpot._

Enough. I went for a stroll, got pizza for lunch, and tried not to think about ponies. I know it sounds impossible to try not thinking about something, but it can be done—basically, you just distract yourself until your mind finds something else to latch onto. But the thoughts were still there, waiting in the background, when I got back home. I sighed, surrendered, and gave my brother a call.

“Ron?”

“Hi Noam.”

“You never call me. You always wait for me to call you.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

I’d thought about how I was going to broach things on the walk back, but I hadn’t settled on anything. “I feel pretty terrible,” I confessed.

“What? How come?”

“I’m competing with a Beatle,” I blurted. “And I think I’m losing.”

“…What?”

“Sorry. You remember the pony girl I told you about?”

“You didn’t really tell me much. Just that she was ‘fascinating.’ And what, she keeps magic beetles?”

“No no. She’s dating a guy called George Harrison. A pony guy.”

“Ooh.” My brother paused—I could guess that he was trying to figure out how seriously to take something he personally found very funny. And yes, there was a stifled chuckle. “That’s a funny name for a pony.”

“He talks like George Harrison—kind of, anyway. Accent and everything.”

Another pause. “Well isn’t that something! But so what? Good for her, right? You said you weren’t into her.”

“I was wrong.”

Now Noam sighed. “Obviously,” he said. He wasn’t trying to rub it in—he was trying to sympathize. “Well, Ron, maybe she belongs with a pony guy? I mean, I don’t know how things have been between you, but this might be a losing fight. And you know I’m not putting you down when I say that.”

“Yeah. I know. But I can’t get over her. I wish I could like the guy, too, but I can’t.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

It was my turn to hesitate. “No. I mean, I don’t really feel like rehashing every little thing.”

“No? So why’d you call?”

“I just wanted to talk to someone, Noam. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on, that’s all. I don’t know.”

“Well geez, Ron. Does she know you love her?”

I started to say yes, but caught myself. “I didn’t use the word ‘love’,” I told him. “She knows I ‘ _like_ like’ her.”

My brother laughed. “Well, isn’t that the same thing?”

“You thought having an exciting new friendship was the same thing as love.”

“I still think that. So yeah, let’s assume she knows how you feel.”

“George thought it was a good idea to ask her to choose between us. We were all eating at a restaurant down in Red Bank and he just came out with it.”

“You were all eating together?”

“We were on a trip. To meet real ponies. I mean Terran ponies.”

“Sounds complicated. So she picked him?”

“She wanted more time to think. But the other day, we were having dinner with Laurie and her boyfriend, you remember Laurie?”

“Yeah, I remember Laurie.”

“Peach got drunk and called George her ‘special somepony’.”

Noam was silent a moment. “So what does that mean?” he laughed.

“It means she thinks of him as her boyfriend.”

“You sure about that? Maybe it means something other than what you think.”

I thought back to George’s post about a hundred meanings of love. “Maybe. But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.”

“Well, you know what you need?”

“No. What do I need?”

“You need a girl. I mean a real human girl. Go on a date.”

I was immediately disgusted with his attitude, but at the same time I knew part of my disgust was because I’d been fighting off the same thought. “You think I should give up?”

“Just go on a date and see how you feel. It’s not giving up. It’s… it’s a different viewpoint. Know what I mean?”

Noam was in a long-term relationship that had hit some rocks. There hadn’t been any third party, so far as I knew. But they’d had fights over things I couldn’t understand, and I knew his girlfriend hated our mother.

“I think I do, yeah. I really do need some perspective. I was thinking earlier how I wished I was working today so I could get distracted by all the little things that make me angry. But my hours are being cut.”

“Uh oh. Cut for good?”

May as well tell him. “Until winter. In theory. It could easily keep going.”

“You don’t exactly have much of a buffer in your budget, do you?”

“No.”

“Wow, Ron. Sorry to hear it.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should come move back to Trenton. It’s a lot cheaper here and I know a place I bet would put you up for a while.”

I felt anger swelling. “You mean that crack house? With that guy you used to do car stuff with?”

“It’s not a crack house just because a few drugs get passed around!” Noam objected. “Crack houses are filthy. I don’t think anyone even does crack there.”

“I’m not ready to come back, Noam.” Funny how certain I was of that when I said it.

“Well, what are you going to do? Find a roommate?”

I was quiet. I didn’t want a roommate. “I’m looking for extra work, or new work. I’m gonna keep looking, and Peach said she can help me out for a while.” A correction occurred to me: I didn’t want a roommate unless it was her. But if that wasn’t going to happen, maybe I would just have to get over her. Then the idea of a roommate might not seem so bad.

“Peach? That’s your pony friend?”

“Yeah.”

“I dunno, Ron. It sounds slippery. Don’t get yourself in a hole, okay?”

“Thanks for the concern. I’ll be all right.” A thought occurred to me. “In fact, I think you’re right about the date thing. I’ve got a girl’s number, I may as well call her.”

“Well hell! If you’ve got a girl’s number, then yeah! Call her!”

“Nice talking with you, Noam.”

“Anytime, Ron.”

It had been a frustrating conversation, as they often were with my brother, but it really had made me feel better. It’s funny how that works. Even so, it was a good few hours before I checked Turtlewood Coffee’s online calendar and settled my nerves enough to call the number Meg had given me.

What did I even know about her? Well, she liked ponies, clearly. She was quiet but seemed to have plenty of spirit, enough to be excited about riding Peach. She’d been dressed in light fabric—I remembered reds and browns. Something seemed off about her too, but that wasn’t necessarily a negative. If I’d had to name one thing that had driven me and Cindy apart, it was that she was so… well, I didn’t want to say ordinary, but she’d always toed the line and didn’t have a lot of tolerance for the little things that made _me_ different. Cindy was confident and solid, and thinking about her made me hang up the phone and wonder how I’d ever thought we could have a life together.

It made no sense. I needed a girl with flaws, but with peaks too, and Cindy had just been… what the world expected of her. She’d liked me for being sweet and honest and kind of clever, but that was only ever just a starting point, wasn’t it? Why did it really fall apart? I asked myself. How am _I_ a little bit off? What is my cutie mark?

I stood there five minutes before calling the number.

“Meg Dougherty,”said the little voice I remembered, not quite shy but very unassuming.

“Hello—this is Ronald Pfeffer, from the trip to Murkowski Ranch. Remember me?”

I heard a choked sound—a gasp? A snort? “I’d thought you weren’t calling. It’s been over two weeks!”

Oh. Yeah, I’d said I would call, hadn’t I? I’d been thinking I _might_ , but I’d done the dumb guy thing and said I _would_. “I’m sorry. I’ve had stuff on my mind and let it slip.”

“Oh.”

There was a lot of weight in that one word. “It was nice meeting you, though, and if you’d like to get together somewhere…”

“I thought you were going to call me so your friend Peach Spark could introduce me to more ponies.”

“Right, of course. Well, there’s this place in Lower Manhattan called Turtlewood Coffee… they have a lot of pony customers, and there’s a lunchtime meet-up most Thursdays. Peach can’t make it there without taking the day off work, but I’d be glad to go—I don’t work every Thursday, it changes around. That way it wouldn’t just be you and a bunch of strangers.”

“Hm,” she said quietly, and then nothing. I waited. “Well, I’d have to get someone to cover for me. But I could do that. Would you want to pick me up, or meet me there?”

Embarrassing. “We’d have to meet there. I don’t have a car, I take the subway.”

“That’s fine,” said the small voice. “I haven’t had a car in over a year. I mean I have one, but it’s broken down. I never liked driving in the city.”

“Do you… do you live nearby?”

“Springfield.”

That was near, yeah. “I’m in Elizabeth. I couldn’t do this Thursday, but next Thursday’s good.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’d feel more comfortable if Peach could come.”

Back when I’d gone out of my way to get Meg’s number, I’d been imagining that if things didn’t work out with Peach, here was a girl who might like me, who might go on a quiet little date with me and see how things grow from there. Now I wondered how I’d ever imagined pulling that off. “I can check with her,” I said, with a rising sense of wrongness and no intention of actually doing so.

“That would be good, thanks. You can call me back when you find out.”

I tried to disguise my sigh as an ordinary breath. “Yeah. Will do.”

“All right. Thanks for calling.”

I hesitated. “You’re welcome. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

That had felt pitiful. I’d reached out to try and get myself in order, and now I needed someone to talk to more than ever.

I could have gone online to see if Barrett was on. I could have done something productive—that new recipe I’d been considering, more job searching, even something like laundry. Instead, I ran a deep, hot bath for myself and settled in for way too long. I wouldn’t have minded falling asleep in the tub, if it had come to that.

But then— _knock knock_.

I hardly ever get visitors unannounced, but I recognized that knock as Peach’s anyway, just as I had the first time she visited. A surge of panic went through me. She was the one person I wanted most to avoid, but even as I had the thought, I softened and realized I couldn’t leave her standing out there. I got out of the tub—I was long since clean anyway—cracked the bathroom door and called, “Just a moment!”

“It’s me!” called Peach.

I wrapped a towel around myself and went to the door. “Gimme a minute,” I called. “I’m wearing a towel!”

“I’m not wearing anything,” replied Peach through the door. “Am I underdressed?”

“I’m just going to dry off and put some clothes on,” I told her.

“Okay,” she replied. “Can you let me in first, though?”

Um. She seemed to have missed the point. Still, I unlocked the door and cracked it open, and Peach came in. She looked fine, having had plenty of time to recover from our dinner outing the other day. Since my apartment was a studio, I didn’t have a bedroom to slip into, so I went to collect some clothes that I could change into in the bathroom. But Peach was watching me with interest.

“Huh! So that’s how you look under the clothes.”

I was equal parts mortified and titillated. “I’m just going to put something on…”

She sat in the entrance hall. “You don’t have to. I kind of like this.”

“Really?” I made sure to keep my towel tight with one hand while I pulled out a pair of pants with the other.

“It’s funny. We’ve known each other over a month, and it’s only now I’m getting to see what you really look like.”

Was that really how she felt? I suspected I was blushing. “Well, if I don’t get dressed, I’ll have to keep holding up my towel.”

“You don’t have to!” suggested Peach. “I’m not wearing a towel.”

“But you’re a pony,” I protested. “You don’t have to.”

“I wonder if this is how Celestia felt with that Canadian girl.”

“You mean Aislyn Wakefield?” A diplomat, famous for being the only human being Princess Celestia had ever seen naked.

“Yeah, her! I like seeing how you move. Your back is pretty.”

I held my bundle of clothes in my lap and sat on the edge of the couch. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, maybe you don’t show it off enough.”

This was awkward. “Look. Here on Earth, you don’t get to just see someone naked. Not unless you’re in a serious relationship with them.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I suspected as much. Even so, aren’t we pretty much best friends?”

Time to face the pain head-on. “The other night, at dinner, you got drunk.”

“I’m sorry about that,” said Peach. “It was stronger than I expected.”

“You said that George was your special somepony. Is that true?”

Her ears went up and back, and she looked down. She didn’t say anything.

“Right,” I said, heading into the bathroom. “I’m getting dressed.”

It didn’t take long. I put on some simple clothes and came out, still a little wet. Peach was sitting on the rug in front of the sofa.

“You’re still barefoot,” she said, looking up.

“Well,” I shrugged.

She watched my feet as I walked over and hurdled the arm of the sofa in order to sit down. “Know what I think about human feet?”

I shrugged again. “They’re silly?”

“They make you look kind of like dragons.” She looked up at my face.

“Not what I expected to hear,” I admitted.

I watched one ear swivel about. “The things about hooves is, they’re just as big as they need to be.” She lifted one of her own for a moment. “Minotaurs walk on two legs, but even they have hooves. But you… it’s like, when you walk, you’re claiming territory. _This_ is mine, and _this_ is mine.” She started stepping slowly around the sofa.

I laughed. “That’s not the point of walking.”

“But it feels like it to me, when I watch you! Dragons do the same thing—they clap their feet over the ground like they own it.”

I put my feet flat on the floor. “It’s nice to see you happy about one of these discoveries for once, instead of upset.”

“Why would I be upset? I like dragons. I mean, I’ve never met one, but… I’ve seen them now and then, and I like watching them.”

“So tell me. If you like watching me so much, why am I not your special somebody?”

Peach sighed. “You know, my parents would raise a fuss if they even knew I was dating an _earth pony_. I don’t want to _think_ what they’d say if I told them I was dating a human.”

I was a little shocked. Bigotry in Equestria? But then I remembered that unicorns were known for being snobbish sometimes, like the ones in Canterlot. “Is that it? You’re making relationship decisions based on what your parents would say?”

Peach backed off a step. “No. No, I’m not. It’s just… that’s something that makes it uncomfortable for me.”

“Is that why you’ve barely mentioned us in your blog?”

She gave a wounded little nod.

“Your parents would be upset that George is an earth pony?”

“I think they’d like him if they got to know him. But where I come from, ‘earth pony’ makes unicorns think of big, dumb farmers, with dirty hooves and glassy eyes, who never do anything but work and sleep and eat…”

“Wow. Racist much?”

She winced, and I regretted saying it. “You really don’t think I have an open mind?”

“No, you definitely do. I guess I was talking about your community. Couldn’t you just explain he’s not like that?”

“Yeah. Sure. Maybe they’d believe me, but then it’s ‘What will the neighbors think?’ and ‘What will the children be?’ Layers on layers.”

“Children? You want children?”

“I don’t know! I’m just saying, that’s where the conversation will go, and that’s just the start of it. I can’t even _imagine_ what they’d say if I told them I had a human boyfriend.”

I thought my heart had already sunk on this account, but I could feel it sinking now. “So where does that leave us?”

“I wish I knew.”

We were both silent for a while, and then she added: “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t think so.” I leaned back, unfocused. “No,” I decided.

There was another silence before Peach produced another question. “Do you love me?”

Despite Noam bringing it up earlier, I hadn’t been expecting it. My mind went back to George’s blog post that morning, and how love meant a hundred different things and there couldn’t really be any single right answer to that question, or if there were, it would take years of research to find it. So I decided to just give the answer I wanted to give: “Yeah. I love you. I do.”

“Really?” The pony before me climbed to her hooves, her eyes welling with hope.

I leaned forward and stared into her face. “Of course,” I said quietly.

“Of course you do,” she repeated.

We stayed there, watching each other. ‘ _Tender’ is the word for this moment_ , I thought. _Like a wound, or a piece of delicious chicken._ Well, that was a dumb thought. I knew the way to trap her—it was to ask her if she loved me. But I couldn’t do that. I knew she wouldn’t want to answer.

“I’m sorry,” said Peach Spark.

I got down on my knees and hugged her. Lightly. My arms in her hair. My chin touched her face and I drew back. “You don’t need to be sorry,” I said. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I can’t choose either of you,” she whispered. “I called George my special somepony because that’s what I wished he could be. And I wish you were my special someperson.”

“Can’t I be? Even if you don’t tell anyone?”

“I don’t think so.” She sat down again. “But you’re the one who knows the rules around here,” she added softly.

“I liked playing magnets with you,” I confided. “It was a really special moment.”

“I had to give that kit back to Second Sight, anyway,” she murmured.

I let her go and sat back on the sofa. “You remember that girl from the ranch? The one who rode on you?”

“Of course I remember her. She rode on me!”

“I called her up. If I can’t date you, I figured maybe I could date her.”

Peach’s expression looked mixed. “You’d probably be better off with another human being,” she conceded.

“And what about you? What if it turns out you really like George—what if you love him? Do you stick with him, or keep looking for a unicorn stallion you like?”

Peach closed her eyes and shook her head.

I sighed. I stood up and walked around behind the couch. “I’ve been a mess all day.”

“Because of me?” she asked.

I shook my head. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t get worked up so easily.”

In a tone that suggested sudden fear, Peach asked: “We’re still friends, right?”

I was nodding before I’d fully processed the question. “Yeah. Of course! Of course.”

“Then we’ll be all right, won’t we?”

The question came from a simple place, and it suggested that Peach had a simple faith. I could respect that. I wished I had that particular faith myself. “I guess if there is such a thing as the power of friendship, we will be.”

Peach smiled as if she’d been crying. “Did Meg say yes?”

I took the unexpected question in stride. “She wants to meet more ponies. I told her about Turtlewood Coffee, and she wants you to come too. You’d have to take next Thursday off work, though. Do you want to come?”

Peach’s laugh was a beautiful one. It was the kind of laugh you could imagine bursting a window made of frost, sailing over a city and echoing everywhere. “Yeah! I’ll definitely come. I went to one of those meet-ups and I keep wanting to go to another.”

“Then it’s a date,” I declared.

“Is it?”

“Might as well be.”

Peach flicked her ears. “For who?”

I shrugged.

She smiled and walked over to join me.

And that was Tuesday.


	13. Personhood

A CITYSCAPE. Skyscrapers, but low ones, as if they were built for scraping a lower sky. A mix of textures and colors, brick, stone and glass. Some facades crumbling, some fresh, others refurbished. Windows in every shape. Ledges and arches like you’d find in Earth architecture, but beyond it. Old-fashioned spectacle.

And behind it all, water. Creeping inlets of water that looked like they might be snaking their way in among the motley buildings, planning to live among them and add to the city’s sense of heterogeneity.

And ponies. Barely visible on the streets far below were ponies going about their business. Carts, carriages, chariots. Old-fashioned streets, contrasting with the height and density of the skyline. Definitely not Manehattan. Could it be Fillydelphia? I thought I knew Fillydelphia by now.

Over the dim bustle came an enthusiastic voice—the voice of Spike the dragon, saying in his practiced way: “It’s… Life in Equestria! Featuring Her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle!”

* * *

In a title sequence familiar to just about the whole English-speaking world, Twilight Sparkle whirled in mid-air against the background of a village somewhere in central Equestria. She glided to a graceful hind-legged landing (which, according to People Magazine, it had taken the relatively inexperienced flier forty-five takes to get right.)

Sparkles flew everywhere along with that tinkly sound that sparkles apparently make, and the title song played:

_Life in Equestria shimmers!_   
_Life in Equestria shines!_   
_And I know for absolute certain_   
_That everything’s going to be… fine!_

* * *

With a wave of magenta, we were left looking at the same skyline as before, but from a different angle. Princess Twilight flew in and faced us, hovering. “Welcome to Life in Equestria! I’m Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship. And this week, I’ve come here… to the historic harbor city of Baltimare!”

Baltimare! Right. I hadn’t recognized it on sight, but I was pretty sure I’d seen it somewhere before.

As Twilight spoke, we were treated to a flyover view of some of the city’s streets. “Baltimare was founded in the seventh century of the Two Sisters, making it one of the oldest cities in Eastern Equestria. It was named after Lady Balthazar, a wealthy Saddle Arabian mage who sponsored the founding of an eastern seaport in Equestria so that her Mages’ Guild could more easily obtain exotic magical supplies. Home to over sixty-thousand ponies, Baltimare’s ports allow it to conduct wide-ranging trade with foreign lands from Zebrica to the Greater Draconic Steppes. But it’s not ponies, zebras or dragons that bring us here today…”

The shot cut to Twilight swooping down before a sign hung over the door to a sizable convention center: “PAN-EQUESTRIAN ANIMAL RIGHTS CONFERENCE—THIS WEEK!” In the background, a lane of frogs hopped easily across a street behind an earth pony carrying a flag and a whistle.

“…It’s Equestria’s first ever conference on animal rights!”

The camera swept wide, panning past a well populated plaza with escorted pockets of animals here and there—skunks and ferrets, rabbits and chipmunks… even a group of ponies in jungle gear leading a blindfolded cockatrice. The camera lingered for a while, picking up the hubbub and setting the scene.

* * *

Then it cut to a concrete wharf with ocean in the background and a wooden ship bobbing at the edge of the frame.

Twilight stood in the foreground and continued to expound. “The Equestrian Oversight Society is a civil authority concerned with maintaining quality of life throughout Equestria. Founded in the second century of Celestial Peace, they consider themselves supplementary to the provincial governments in their mission to identify and address problems that affect Equestria as a whole, and not just some portion of it. As such, they carry only that authority which the princesses choose to vest in them, but are invaluable as a citizens’ forum for discussing pan-Equestr—”

“Get to the point!” yelled Rainbow Dash’s unmistakable voice from off-screen. “They aren’t here for a lecture.”

Twilight looked flustered, but recovered smoothly. “That’s true—they’re here for a symposium! The Equestrian Oversight Society, or EOS, has sent a delegate here from every province to discuss the issue of animal rights. They always like to have a princess present at their conferences to witness the will of the people, so I volunteered!”

The camera drifted along as Twilight strolled along the wharf. “I’m here with my good friend Rainbow Dash, who helped me prepare Cloudsdale for the Equestrian Games, and has been sticking with me ever since…”

Rainbow, sitting casually on the wharf with her legs crossed, shrugged. “I had nothing better to do.”

The camera went the other way. “…And with my other good friend, Fluttershy, whom I asked to come along as an expert on animal behavior.”

Fluttershy was sitting quite a distance away, as if she was afraid of the camera. She immediately blushed and sank into herself.

“Say hi, Fluttershy!” encouraged Twilight. “Millions of people are watching!”

She jerked and shrank back further. “…Millions?”

“Tens of millions!” said Spike’s voice, offscreen. “If you count the humans on Earth. Maybe hundreds of millions!”

Predictably, this made Fluttershy creep even further back. Twilight shot a glare past the camera, presumably where Spike was, and trotted over to Fluttershy. “It’s okay,” she reassured her. “All you have to do is say hi!”

Fluttershy shook her head nervously, her front hooves covering her mouth.

Rainbow poked her head into frame. “C’mon, Flutters. It’s not like we’re asking the world, here.”

“No,” murmured Fluttershy. “You’re just _talking_ to the world.”

“Fluttershy,” chided Twilight. “You realize that ‘hi’ has only one syllable, don’t you? You’ve already said a lot more syllables than that already.”

Twilight’s logic didn’t seem to sway the nervous mare, though, who just gave her head a further little shake and inched so far back she was in danger of falling in the water.

“Eh, don’t sweat it,” said Rainbow. “Maybe she already said something that sounded like ‘hi’. We can just edit it in post.”

“Rainbow, how many times do I have to tell you?” objected Twilight. “Post-production is not magic.”

“I just can’t say ‘hi’,” protested Fluttershy. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

Rainbow clapped her hooves together. “There you go! We can work with that.”

“Good,” said Twilight, retaking control. “As I was saying, I’m here with my friends Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy to document the anim—”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Twilight?” interrupted Spike’s voice.

“Huh? No, Spike, I don’t think I’m forgetting anyone. Thanks for checking, though! As I was saying, we’re here to document the conference and pass along any decisions they may reach to Princess Celestia. But while we’re in town, we intend to see the sights!”

The camera started to swing and Spike’s legs were visible for a split second. Then came a shot zooming around the bayline at tremendous speed, accompanied by energetic rock music. Sailboats big and small, pontoons, rowboats, galleys and even steam engines cut across the water or sat hitched to docks and posts. Miles of picturesque shoreline restaurants, storehouses, industrial yards and magnificent stone halls with Equestrian flags passed by in the space of a quarter minute.

* * *

The music blazed out, leaving us listening to the irregular clinks, horns and other sounds of the wharf. A duck swam out swiftly against the waves, then turned and swam more swiftly back to the dock. Fluttershy was waiting there, watching with kind eyes.

“Excellent job, Bailey.” She reached out to give the duck the gentlest of pats on the head, which seemed to please it. Turning to the camera, Fluttershy blushed, but this time her bravery won out. “This is Bailey. He’s one of my favorite animals, and he _insisted_ on coming along to this conference. He’s so very clever.”

The duck shook himself dry in the brisk, contained way that ducks do. Like all Equestrian animals, he looked different than his Earthly counterparts. He was simpler in shape, with fewer features and a pronounced curve to his back and neck, almost like a subtle caricature of a duck. His wings tapered to rounded points, individual feathers invisible. His head was green, his body brown.

Spike’s voice: “Can you… talk to Bailey?”

Fluttershy was unmistakably more animated now that she was being asked about her great passion. “I talk to all my animal friends,” she explained to the camera. “They don’t always understand me, but they always care. If I truly care about them, and if they truly care about me, then the emotion carries through.”

“And… is that enough?” asked Spike.

“It’s enough for us to get along,” said Fluttershy firmly. “But some animals seem to understand more. Bailey here is very good at understanding. I gave him instructions for exactly which way to swim, and he followed them to the letter.” She smiled at the duck, who lifted his head to make eye contact with her. “Sometimes I think he understands everything I say.”

The camera zoomed in on the duck’s alert face with its unreadable black eyes. “And… can any of your animals talk back to you?”

“Oh, yes,” said Fluttershy. “Some of them have their own languages. They aren’t as complex as our language, but I guess that’s just because they don’t have as much to say.”

Bailey waddled forward and peered at the camera, thrusting his head forward with his neck crooked.

“So you can talk about things with some of your animals?”

“Some of them, yes. For instance, one time I negotiated with a beaver who’d built a dam right across the edge of Applejack’s farm. He wanted an apology. But then, beavers are cleverer than most animals. They’re builders.”

“Your bunny Angel seems pretty smart,” continued Spike. “I had to look after him once, and he didn’t let me get _anything_ by him.”

“Angel is very smart,” said Fluttershy. “But he’s very stubborn, and his stubbornness can cloud his judgment.” She glowered, looking from the camera to the young dragon behind it. “I still can’t believe you took him on a train all the way to the Crystal Empire, and then lied about it,” she scolded. “After all, he is only a bunny rabbit.”

“I already said I was sorry about that! Like, five times!” blustered Spike. “You would never have found out if the humans hadn’t made an episode about it!”

“And you even tried to pretend it hadn’t really happened, even then,” continued the irate pegasus. “Even though everything else in their show happened exactly the way they wrote it, you expected us to believe that was the _one_ thing they got wrong.”

“Look, I’m sorry! Is six sorries enough? I was just crazy for gem cake! You think Angel’s stubbornness clouds his judgment? Well, my hunger clouds mine!”

Fluttershy softened visibly. “I know. And it just goes to show that we shouldn’t have left you with all that responsibility. You weren’t ready for it. And neither is a bunny like Angel, no matter how loyal and true he is.”

* * *

The focus blurred out, then blurred in again on the interior of a large building. There were concrete stairs, buttresses and lots of open space. White painted walls and carpet patterned in lavender and gray. Ponies were walking this way and that, some in uniforms that seemed to mark them as convention center staff or as security. Like outside, there were also animals here and there, although now they were all under careful surveillance by the uniformed ponies.

Twilight Sparkle trotted easily along past a concessions kiosk, a cutie-mark-spangled pannier at her side. Some of the ponies around her turned to stare or whisper to their neighbors, but that was nothing new for Twilight or for her viewers. When she approached a registration desk, the ponies on duty bowed their heads down almost to the table’s surface.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, checking in,” she said pertly.

Your highness, we’re so glad you could make it,” said the dark yellow mare behind the desk, flipping through a book. “If you’ll sign on the line…?”

Twilight did so and was given a name badge on a lanyard, a booklet, and a personalized schedule. She dutifully put on the badge and floated the schedule before her, examining it. “I understand I’m supposed to meet with the head of the EOS?”

“That’s right—at four o’clock in the Executive Room. I know you declined a liaison, but I’d be glad to show you over there…”

“No need!” said a cheerful Twilight. “I’m sure I can find my way. Thank you very much!”

The smiling ponies at the desk nodded.

* * *

Static filled the screen. Now we were watching Twilight, Rainbow and Flutters as they sat reading through the event booklet on a bench near the top of an escalator. The ponies riding the escalator looked funny with their hindquarters up much higher than their forequarters or vice-versa. Some were confused, evidently never having ridden an escalator before.

“All right,” said Twilight, scribbling notes on a levitated scroll. “My meeting is at four and the keynote speech is at six. There’s a mixer at seven thirty, and then we have breakout sessions until ten.”

“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Rainbow, poking the schedule so hard her hoof was visible from the other side. “Daring Do is here! She’s presenting on her latest expedition in the jungles of Flutter Valley!”

“Then you’ll have to go to that, won’t you?” Twilight unwrapped the booklet from Rainbow’s hoof and kept reading. “I think I’m more interested in the lecture opposite, on the genesis of magical species.”

“That does sound pretty cool,” admitted Rainbow. “I wonder if I’m quick enough to go to both?”

“But that’s tomorrow,” Twilight continued. “Tonight we have… Hm. ‘Life As a Wool Sheep’… ‘Camera Hunting in the Griffon Kingdom’… and it looks like that team with the cockatrice is presenting at nine.”

Hmm,” mused Rainbow sarcastically. “Listen to some former wool sheep whine, or see a cockatrice in action?” She unfurled her wings. “Not a hard decision.”

Twilight was reading on. “Oh, Fluttershy! Tomorrow morning at eleven: ‘Taming the Orthros—the Route from Savagery to Domesticity.’”

Fluttershy peered at the booklet. “Really?”

Twilight was reading on. “This lecture looks interesting. ‘The Carnivore’s Dilemma: Dealing with Creatures with Contradictory Needs.’” Twilight frowned slightly. “And here’s one just called, ‘Treating Animals as Equals.’” She squinted and scanned the page. “That’s odd. These aren’t the sort of lectures I was expecting.”

“What do you mean?” asked Fluttershy.

Twilight lowered the booklet. “I was expecting this conference would be about cases of animal mistreatment, and how to prevent it. But from reading this program book, it looks like the real focus is more on… animal civil rights!”

Rainbow Dash blinked. “What’s the difference?”

“Well, on the one hoof, it’s good to protect the basic rights of animals as living beings. For example, this item—‘Compassionate Practice in Flea Circuses.’ It degrades everyone if we treat other living beings as our tools or playthings. But then on the other hoof… ‘Treating Animals As Equals’? A lot of these seem to be suggesting that animals should have the same rights people have.”

Fluttershy was now hovering just above floor level, peering at the schedule. “That’s… very interesting,” she said. “But why shouldn’t they have all the same rights we do?”

“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “It’s just that this seems very different from the human animal rights movement that I thought this conference was inspired by.”

Rainbow’s out-of-whack eyes suggested she was confused by the issue. “Maybe you should ask about that in your meeting.”

“Good idea, Rainbow. I’ll ask Dame Claystone what goals she has for this conference. The EOS has official meetings scheduled for tomorrow and Sunday, so I’ll find out what sort of business they’re planning to address.”

Fluttershy landed lightly. “I think I’d be very interested in hearing the answer,” she decided.

The footage then sped up massively to the point that speech couldn’t be made out. The three friends buzzed around the escalator and then a colt in a propeller beanie came up to ask Twilight for her autograph, which she gave smilingly. The three then zipped off, leaving us to watch ponies speeding up and down the escalators.

* * *

Abruptly, the scene jumped to a room with a purple carpet and wood paneled walls. Rainbow Dash, now sporting a fedora with a press pass, stood in front of a table with a frowning purple earth stallion behind it. A sign reading “ANIMAL RIGHTS MIXER” was hung from the table, little silhouettes of butterflies and badgers decorating the corners.

“Let’s… meet the delegates!” said an excited Dash, peering into the camera.

The image wobbled out as if there were signal interference. It settled on a pale yellow unicorn with gold hoop earrings and an EOS badge standing near a refreshment table. She smiled carefully for the camera. “Hope Topaz,” she said, apparently introducing herself. “Representing the Unicorn Range.”

“So how’d you get into animal rights?” asked Rainbow Dash, now offscreen.

The delegate seemed slightly uncomfortable. “I’m not exactly into animal rights. I’m interested in preserving the integrity and majesty of Equestria, like the rest of my colleagues on the Range. We had to send someone to this conference, and I was available for travel.”

“Uh huh,” said Rainbow. “So what’re you hoping to get from this conference?”

She spoke in a self-conscious hush. “Mainly, I’m hoping to keep anything rash from happening. There are ponies these days who enjoy ascribing souls to everything they can possibly get away with.”

“Souls??”

“Yes! That’s how they try to change things. They want the public to believe that the likes of bears, wombats and alligators have souls, and once they have public sympathy, they’ll pass law after law protecting animal habitats. I expect that some of them genuinely believe in their cause, but many are only trying to stop pony development.”

“Stop pony development? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“I expect you’ll be hearing quite a bit about it soon, Miss Dash. This whole issue of animal rights is a front for something far more insidious.”

“Really? What?”

“Ending our traditional way of life. Your friend Twilight Sparkle would do well to pay attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if the animal liberators had their sights set on toppling the monarchy itself.”

Rainbow was temporarily speechless. “Uh… really? Okay then, I’ll let her know. Thanks for your time!”

“My pleasure,” said the all too serious pale yellow unicorn.

* * *

Static cut to another corner of the mixer, and another EOS delegate, this one an amaranth-pink earth mare in a thick sweater. She looked nervously from behind the camera to the camera itself. “Hi. I’m Jennylope Aster.”

“And where are you representing?”

“Oh—the Hayseed Swamps. South of here.”

“And how did you get sent here?”

“Well, a cousin of mine is a conservationist. She studies lightning bug populations and is really worried about them running out of mating habitat, the more lights we ponies build. So since I’m on the Oversight Committee, I agreed to come and present her point of view.”

“Lightning bugs don’t like light, huh?”

“They do better when they can stand out.” She adjusted her dark red mane.

“Yeah, well they’re not the only ones!” said Rainbow. This got a chuckle from the delegate, followed by another static cut.

* * *

Now we were facing a dark bluish green earth stallion, tall and somber. “Penduluminus,” he said. “Pendulum for short. Representing the forest principality of Hollow Shades.”

“Pendulum. Sure. And how’d you get into animal rights?”

“I’ve always been interested in the nature of animals around us. As a foal, I watched chipmunks and ground squirrels living their lives, and it seemed to me they were capable of more than we gave them credit for.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Like communicating ideas. Chipmunks have several predators, and I noticed that they used different alarm signals for each. Since then I’ve been keeping abreast of animal communication studies. I’ve even contributed a few papers.”

“Radical,” said Rainbow.

“Somewhat,” said the stallion, tilting his head. “I am hoping that the way animals are regarded will change.”

“Like how?” asked Rainbow.

“For example, I believe they ought to be eligible for territorial claims. To protect their native land.”

“Wow. That really is radical. But I don’t know if it’s awesome.”

“Time will tell, I suppose.”

* * *

Once more the screen jumped, and now before us was a small pegasus mare whose blue coat was barely lighter than Rainbow’s own, a plate of hors d’oeuvres balanced on one forehoof. “I’m Clearscape, representing San Palamino,” she said cheerfully.

“And what’s your agenda for the conference?” asked Rainbow.

“Oh, I’ve got no agenda!” she replied with a slight twang. “I just expect big things are happening. We’re living at a rich time in history, and it’s a whole new world.”

“Why do you say that?”

She shrugged. “For starters, the return of Celestia’s sister eight years back! And the Crystal Empire six years back.” She turned to face the camera directly. “But mainly, aren’t I talking to a whole new world right now?”

“That you are!” affirmed Rainbow. “So you think this conference’ll bring changes for the animal kingdom?”

“It might, or it might not,” said Clearscape. “I just intend to be on the lookout.” With that, she popped a pinwheel roll into her mouth and chewed. With a _fwoomp,_ the picture collapsed to a nocturnal shot of a Baltimare street corner under a maroon filter. Then came Fluttershy on the wharf, saying “hi” over and over in quick succession in a clip clearly edited from earlier. Last came a still drawing of Twilight in oil paints, looking confusedly from a shore toward the distant horizon with a question mark over her head. “ _Life in Equestria_ will be right back,” said her chipper voice.

Commercial break.

* * *

======================================

* * *

I looked over to the pony sharing my sofa, but I didn’t dare to cuddle. She looked back. We made the shared look as meaningful as we could.

I got up. Since she’d brought orange juice, I figured I should be the one to go and pour it. But as I was unscrewing the bottle, a glass floated over to me in a haze of electric blue.

I filled the glass, and it floated away again.

I poured some for myself and returned to the sofa, where Peach was sipping happily. “Have you got a straw?” she asked.

“Um… no. I don’t really have any use for straws. Sorry.”

“No problem. Just easier to drink that way.” She tilted the glass and took a bigger gulp. “You might want to get some if you keep having ponies over.”

I settled in again. “It’s just been you so far.”

She gave me a smile that might even have been coy. “So what do you think’s gonna happen?”

“In the show? Wow. I don’t know.”

“Do you think there’ll be a big fight? A huge screaming match?”

“Could be. That sort of thing always seems to happen at the big summits. Either a loud fight or a quiet one.”

“I feel like they’re setting up for it,” said Peach.

“Maybe? I don’t know—these shows aren’t as easy to predict as the FiM ones were.”

Peach didn’t reply. When I looked over, she was looking at me.

“What is it?”

“Is that true? _Friendship is Magic_ was predictable?”

I tensed. “Well, I mean… yeah. It was a scripted show, for kids, with a happy little lesson at the end…”

“But it _wasn’t_ just scripted!” she pointed out. “Sure, someone wrote the scripts, but it was real, too!”

Again, the weird feeling I always got when I remembered that. “Right…”

“So are you saying your people not only made mine simple and sanitized, but predictable, too?”

I got flustered looking for an answer. I knew ‘ _We didn’t make you’_ would be met again by ‘ _You might as well have.’_ “Well, if you think about it, part of the predictability is in where they chose to start and end the stories. Our writers edited your reality to be predictable, I guess.”

Peach pointed at the television. “ _Life in Equestria_ is edited, too. But you’re saying it’s not predictable?”

“Not as much, no.”

“Then why’s that? Is it because it’s ponies doing the editing, not humans?”

“I don’t honestly know. It could be.”

“And we’re just not as good at telling neat little stories about ourselves as humanity is?”

I considered. “Well, that’s possible. Maybe you’re our natural… story…”

“Fodder,” she finished.

“I was going to say, subjects.”

She resettled herself on the couch. “We should totally make TV shows or plays for foals about human life,” she decided. “See if it works both ways.”

That was an interesting idea. “Maybe it doesn’t work anymore, in either direction,” I suggested. “Maybe now that we know each other, the link is broken.”

Peach gave me a frightened, meaningful look. Then she jerked her attention back to the TV, where an oil painting of Twilight opening a message in a bottle, an exclamation point over her head, was on the screen. “Welcome back to _Life in Equestria,”_ she said.

* * *

======================================

* * *

Again, a spastic montage of Flutter-’hi’s.

Then there she stood on a cement sidewalk barely lit by the rising sun, a street filled with picturesque businesses before her. “Good morning, Baltimare,” said Fluttershy in a voice filled with quiet compassion.

“Louder,” said Rainbow Dash’s voice from off camera.

Fluttershy took a breath. “Good morning, Baltimare!” Her voice was still quiet enough to be unheard by passersby.

“Louder!” said Rainbow again.

Fluttershy rolled her wingtips to her back and out again, centering herself. She inhaled deeply. “Good morning, Baltimare!!” she cried with enthusiastic abandon. It was still barely louder than a conversational tone.

Rainbow swooped before the camera. “Gooood moorrning Baaltimaaare!” she yelled, drawing glances from ponies in the background.

* * *

Scene cut. Now Fluttershy stood before a huge picture window. Behind it were large tanks filled with rocks, gravel and sand, but also with little props like flags, seesaws, ferris wheels and parallel bars. The tanks were also populated with crabs.

“Baltimare is world-famous for its performing crabs,” said Fluttershy. “This is Jumble Jack’s Harbor Crab Spectacular, one of the better known crab shows. As you can see, the crabs are resting now. But in a couple of hours, this boardwalk will be filled with ponies eager to see them perform their tricks.” Some of the crabs poked their heads up and seemed to listen while Fluttershy talked about them.

“Think we can get them to do a trick or two for us now?” asked Rainbow, again behind the camera.

“Well, I don’t know,” hemmed Fluttershy. “This is their time off, after all.”

“Come on, they’ve been resting all night. Just one little trick?”

Fluttershy spoke directly to the crabs and pointed to an apparatus in their tank. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but is there any chance we could see a little trick? There are so many ponies out there who I’m sure would love to see you perform.”

Her soothing wiles won over a trio of brownish red crabs. They scuttled to the nearest machines. Two climbed into spaces designed for them, each one’s eight legs gripping eight little thimbles, while the remaining crab in the middle silently used its pincer to turn a crank and made the apparati holding the others spin over and over. The revolving crabs, once upside-down, simultaneously let go with four legs each. Then they instantly let go with the other four legs and reinserted the original four, catching themselves from falling. They did this a few times in synchronization before the middle crab turned them right-side up again and the three took funny little bows.

“Whoa,” said Rainbow.

“That was very nice. Well done,” said Fluttershy.

“That was trippy,” said Rainbow.

“So there you have it,” said Fluttershy. “The famous performing crabs of Baltimare.”

But she was interrupted by a honking quack and a series of wingbeats. Bailey the duck arrived at the window and started pecking the glass. Fluttershy, surprised, grasped him in her forehooves and tried to calm him down. “Bailey! What’s gotten into you?”

The duck quacked through the glass, and the crabs started to rise from their slumber. They gathered before the duck and stood listening while Fluttershy kept trying to calm him down. “Bailey, please leave these crabs to their rest. They’re hard-working performers, you know.” She was met with a quack directly to her face.

“Hey. Nobody treats Fluttershy like that,” said Rainbow, and the camera turned suddenly away from the scene.

* * *

Then the window and the crabs were gone in a blur of static. Rainbow Dash stood in front of a huge pair of redstone walls opening toward her at a wide angle. “This is Fort Fairweather! It’s named for Admiral Fairweather, the tenth leader of the Wonderbolts! He got the Wonderbolts back into shape as a fighting force on _top_ of being the world’s most amazing aerial acrobats!” By now Rainbow was off the ground, beating her wings. “And he served on the coast during the First Kraken War! By the time of the invasion of the land krakens, this fort was here to hold them off! Check it out!” The camera’s angle rose to reveal the corner of a bastion topped with beautiful green ivy, and Rainbow Dash rose with it. “It’s shaped like a star! That way each point of the star can protect the others next to it!”

Fluttershy’s voice was barely audible. “That reminds me of how some ponies think we’re the stars in Twilight’s cutie mark, and we all protect each other.”

Rainbow looked down, confused, but then acquired a big grin and pumped a hoof through the air. “Yeah! Like that! She zoomed down out of sight. Static.

* * *

Fluttershy stood delightedly in front of a gigantic flower whose petals waved lightly in the breeze. Its colors were electric red, green and blue, and it might or might not have been real. Around it were little concessions stands on a gravelly square.

“This is the Power Plant,” she explained. “It’s the most musical plant anyone’s ever discovered. It was a gift to Equestria from the Chancellor of Zebrica in the eighth century, and ponies still love to dance to it.”

“It doesn’t sound that musical,” said a skeptical off-camera Rainbow.

“Well, you have to get it started,” said Fluttershy softly. “But when you do, it lays down some really, really phat beats.”

“Phat beats??”

Fluttershy blushed. “Oh, they’re the phattest. Or so I hear.”

“What does that even mean?”

Fluttershy tilted her head. “It means that however pretty it is in the morning, you should see this place at night.” The camera panned over to a big unlit neon sign reading ‘Power Plant Live’.

Static.

* * *

Rainbow Dash stood atop a ship’s yard, a broad off-white sail open behind her. “This ship is called an argosy!” she shouted above the wind. “It’s widely considered one of the most awesome types of ships!”

She then flew to a higher sail, and the camera followed her. “These days it’s a museum and never goes anywhere, but it used to be a really important trading ship! They say some of the onion domes for Canterlot Palace came over from Saddle Arabia on this ship! And look how tall this mast is!”

Again she flew up, and now the camera rose to the very top sail, white clouds behind it. The camera shuddered shyly as it took in the crow’s nest.

Rainbow alighted on the mast’s pinnacle. “I think they call this sail the foretopskyscrapergallant,” she called down. “Or maybe it’s a toproyalmoonraker. Hey Fluttershy—come up here with me! The view’s great!”

“No thanks, Rainbow,” said Fluttershy, moving the camera slightly side to side. “I’m happier down here, where it’s safe.”

“Fluttershy, you do know you have wings, right?” Rainbow unfurled her own. “You kinda have to use ‘em to get up here in the first place.”

“I’m afraid of heights,” she protested.

“But why? What did heights ever do to you?”

“They’re just very high.”

“Fine,” Rainbow sighed, and pointed a wingtip downward. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable on that tugboat.”

* * *

Static. Fluttershy now stood on the prow of a red and brown tugboat as it bobbed in the waves. She looked supremely happy.

“So what should we know about this one, Flutters?” asked Rainbow.

Fluttershy puffed up her chest. “Tugboats are the _cutest_ boats.”

Static.

* * *

Rainbow walked up a cracked street and looked dubiously at the tall, curled brown grass rising increasingly from the cracks. As the camera advanced, Rainbow walked carefully, avoiding little sprouts of different kinds growing all over the street. Eventually she reached a part so overgrown with foliage that a nearby carriage rolled by on the sidewalk instead.

“What’s the deal with all these plants?” asked Rainbow.

“I think we’ve reached the seedy part of town,” suggested Fluttershy.

Rainbow struck a disbelieving stance. “Seriously?!”

Static.

* * *

Fluttershy stood before the wall of a red brick stadium, staring at a tree branch extending out of a narrow window.

“So what’s in here, Fluttershy?” asked Rainbow, again out of sight.

She looked back. “This is the home of the world-famous Baltimare Orioles,” she imparted quietly. “They’re one of the very best avian _a capella_ groups.”

“ _A capella_?”

“It means singing without instruments. The orioles are an inspiration to me, Rainbow! I dream that someday my own birds will be able to sing like they do.”

“Oh yeah? What makes them so great?”

“Practice,” said Fluttershy decisively. She called through the window: “Little orioles! Little sweeties! Won’t you come out and sing something for us?”

She stood waiting, excited with anticipation, for several seconds. Then came wingbeats, and Fluttershy’s ears rose. But it was just Bailey the duck again, quacking up a storm. He dove through the little window. Fluttershy jumped back, then flew up to follow. “Bailey! Leave them alone!”

“That duck has issues,” said Rainbow Dash.

Static.

* * *

Twilight Sparkle stood at the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth. She noticed the camera and looked balefully at it. “Spike, no one wants to see me engaged in dental hygiene!”

“Sure they do!” said Spike. “Ordinary ponies want to know all the ways you’re just like them!”

But the shot cut immediately to Twilight pacing slowly in front of a hotel bed, trying on spectacles and ties.

“Why don’t you just wear your gorget and tiara?” asked Spike, still out of sight.

“This is an academic conference!” replied Twilight, aghast. “I can’t dress up like a princess for a conference. I have to look respectable!”

“But you _are_ a princess,” insisted Spike. “That’s the whole reason you’re here! And princesses _are_ respectable!”

Twilight hesitated, lowering a narrow pair of black frames. “Still. I don’t want to distract everypony’s attention.”

“Then why wear anything? Just go _au naturel_.”

Twilight frowned. “Did you learn that term from Rarity?”

“Maybe. Oh hey! You never said how your meeting went.”

Twilight looked at the camera. “It’s just like I was afraid it would be! I met with Dame Claystone, the head of the Equestrian Oversight Committee, and according to her, there are a lot of voices calling for a fundamental change in the way Equestria treats its animals.”

“Wow. Really? How come?”

Twilight continued fussing with accessories. “It’s all because of influence from Earth. Apparently Terran animals aren’t nearly as smart as Fimmish ones! When humans started interacting with our animals, they were bowled over by the difference.”

“Oh! Yeah, that seems kind of familiar,” said Spike. “That’s how they justify keeping them in big cages and killing them for meat, right?”

Twilight frowned, putting down her bow tie. “Well, it’s better than what dragons do. Do you remember all those slogans? ‘Might Makes Right…’”

“‘To the victors go the spoils!’” said Spike excitedly.

“‘Do not interfere in the affairs of dragons,” recited Twilight, “for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.’”

“I like that one!” said Spike. “Oh, and then there’s: ‘If animals didn’t want dragons to eat them, they shouldn’t be so darn tasty!’”

Twilight smiled, then frowned. “Exactly. The humans think our animals deserve better treatment than they give their own. Thus this conference.” She settled on a diminutive white tie and a white mortarboard, which she adjusted in front of a floating mirror. She tried out and rejected a monocle.

“But… but isn’t that… isn’t that…”

“Hypocrisy?” suggested Twilight.

“Yeah, hypocrisy,” said Spike.

“Well, perhaps. I guess it all depends on just how different their animals are from ours.”

“Ahh, they’re probably not that different,” said Spike. “I mean, how dumb could they be?”

* * *

A cut to black was followed by the sounds of a muffled crowd. We were then shown a conference room of ponies getting seated, Spike’s face peering into the camera. “We’re at a morning lecture,” he said. “This one I think is called, ‘Equestrian Rats in Terran Experiments’.”

The young dragon then settled down behind the camera again and focused on the ponies filing in behind the presentation table at the head of the room. Most wore white lab coats. There was a screen and an overhead projector. The camera panned over to Twilight, sitting two seats over from Spike. She looked nervous.

Back to the big table. The red earth stallion in the center, snappy in his lab coat, tapped his microphone and started things off, introducing the lecture, the scientists and the topic. He continued: “And so it seemed imperative that, sooner or later, we would have to do a direct comparison study of counterpart fauna from both worlds. Now, there were several obstacles in the way of such a project. To begin with, the transport of animals through the portals in either direction is highly restricted and requires several levels of oversight…”

The scene faded out, then faded back in on a different stallion, this one emerald green with a horn and a higher voice. “But because we have no established rat strains of our own, the question was whether it made sense to use a maximally random statistical sample from both our collection and theirs, or to attempt to replicate one of their strains through visible characteristics. Some consideration was given to the possibility of a rat breeding program here in Baltimare, but we eventually decided that, due to ethical concerns…”

Fade out. Fade in on a salmon-colored unicorn mare pointing to a picture of a wooden maze. “…while the Sprague-Dawley rats were unlikely to tread the same path twice, but showed no tendency toward creative problem solving. Indeed, as with most of the experiments we imported, the conditions of the maze were meant to minimize the possibility for creative problem solving, stripping the subjects’ choices down to a theoretical minimum in order to isolate effects. However, this didn’t prevent the Baltimare rats from employing such strategies as glaring at the researchers, gnawing at the joints between boards, and in some cases climbing the spaces between narrow walls, using their heads and tails for support on opposite sides, as shown in this photograph. When two or more rats were placed into the maze together, this technique…”

Fade out again. Fade in on a fourth pony, a silver-white pegasus stallion, talking while the screen showed a cage with two buttons hooked up to buzzers and tubes of food. “…pattern of button presses which later turned out to be a code that the rats were using to communicate while being held in different cages, although the exact content of the information communicated in not yet known. So once again, our observations fit the general pattern of consistent differences between our subject groups not just in quantitative measures, but in their qualitative reactions to the experiments. This was highly meaningful in itself, but we still wanted a quantitative comparison, so we decided to increase our safeguards, as you can see from the following arrangement…”

The camera panned slowly over the room to Twilight, who was sitting raptly on her chair, hind legs tucked under and forelegs straining to give her a better view. She was staring with her full attention at the lecture, but then she noticed the camera and her ear flicked. “Isn’t this fascinating, Spike?” she murmured.

In answer, the camera merely turned back slowly, slowly, to the presentation table. The screen now showed a drawing of a rat grinning gleefully while it pressed a button and delivered an electric shock to a surprised pony in a lab coat. “…which we took as our cue to wrap up the data gathering process and move on to the analytic stage,” continued the silver pegasus.

* * *

The scene then faded gently to a low wooden table in a large room, ponies wandering back and forth in the background, the hubbub punctuated now and then by the bleat of a goat. Fluttershy slowly slurped up noodles in sauce, one by one, while Rainbow Dash stabbed marinated vegetables with a fork and popped them into her mouth, and Twilight Sparkle rolled various ingredients together into a whole grain tortilla and enjoyed them with a happy sound.

“How was the lecture, Twilight?” asked Fluttershy.

She chewed and swallowed a little too hastily. “I loved it! I’m not surprised the local rats were able to consistently outperform their counterparts from Johns Hopkins. But it’s impressive to what extent they simply operated on another level from them. It’s as if they were deliberately trying to thwart the researchers, while the Terran rats didn’t even show any comprehension that they were being mistreated, let alone form plans to do anything about it.”

Fluttershy sat lower on her seat. “I don’t like the idea of doing experiments on poor little rats.”

“Well, they let them go in the end. And it was all in the name of science, after all.”

“I suppose. But still. I can’t help thinking there might be a better way.”

Twilight sighed. “You may be right, Fluttershy. Maybe it is wrong to keep animals in captivity, even for the purpose of doing science. In fact, that may be exactly what the Society is planning to discuss.”

Rainbow Dash had been busily gobbling down food and smacking her lips through this exchange, but now she offered a suggestion. “If our animals are too smart for science, maybe we could just borrow some animals from Earth.”

“But even Earth animals still feel pain,” pointed out a stricken Fluttershy.

“Hm. Do they feel emotional pain?” asked Rainbow.

“Oh, yes. I’ve read stories.”

“Rats. Well, I guess there’s no more science then!” Rainbow turned to Twilight. “Sorry, Twi. But it had a good run.”

“There will _always_ be science,” declared Twilight in a huff. “Even if it ends up taking magic to make it happen.” Pleased with herself, she packed another tortilla full of food and tucked it into her mouth.

* * *

A short line of ponies stood assembled before a pair of doors in what seemed to be an especially nice part of the convention center. Guards in military-looking saddles and dark glasses stood at attention while an off-white little stallion checked everypony’s credentials, one by one. Twilight’s rear end was visible in the foreground. As she advanced in line, occasionally flicking her tail, we were treated to a voiceover from Rainbow Dash, delivered in an increasingly excited hush as if she were crouched in a bush somewhere for a nature documentary.

“Our hero, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, advances toward the doors to the most important event at the conference: the official meeting of the Equestrian Oversight Society. Will they let her in? Or have her princess papers somehow been revoked? Is there a conspiracy to keep her out? And what dangers await her within? Was that crazy mare at the mixer right? Will the EOS try to undo everything the monarchy holds sacred?? Will it be up to Twilight to stop them?!”

At that point a guard started toward where Rainbow was presumably standing and the scene cut to static.

* * *

When it returned, the focus was different, as if a different lens were taking in the altogether too large meeting room. There was one big table with thirty or forty ponies around it… and a zebra… and, yes, that was a donkey. The ceiling was far too high and the walls were distant in every direction. A couple of smaller tables nearby seated what seemed to be miscellaneous staff, security and escorts, but the main table was on a dais, making it about three feet higher. We were watching from an angle even higher than that. Either the camera was on a crane or Rainbow Dash had amazingly stable aerial camera skills.

The gaunt blue-green stallion from Hollow Shades was talking. “There is much to be said for the concept of personhood. As I understand it, it doesn’t merely define a being’s capabilities, but also its place in society. Or rather, the title of personhood gives a being a place in society.”

“But don’t we confer that status of our own will?” suggested a light green unicorn in ruffles and pearls, her voice somewhere between affected and sophisticated. “Is there anything manifestly natural about that pairing of rights and abilities?”

“What are you saying?” asked the red-pink mare from the swamps, Jennylope Aster. “Are you saying we can decide which rights we want to give certain people and which ones we don’t?”

“I believe we _can_ ,” answered the fancy unicorn. “I don’t say we _should_.”

“If the concept of personhood makes us uncomfortable,” put in a blue earth stallion, “we can talk about citizenship instead. Equestrian citizenship comes with certain rights, and we could create a process…”

“For giving animals citizenship?” asked somepony.

“Well, for deciding which ones are worthy of it.”

“May I just interject?” It was the yellow unicorn Rainbow had called ‘the crazy mare’, Hope Topaz. “Why are we discussing this as if it’s been decided that something needs to change? Is there something broken about Equestria? And if not, may I suggest we consider the old saying, ‘If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it’?”

“‘If it ain’t broke,’ I think you mean,” corrected a yellow earth stallion with dusty orange hair.

Now a hammer’s rap broke through the voices. The mare at the center of one end of the table, a dark gray pegasus with a hint of red in her coat and a wavy mane of royal blue, rose to speak. She was Dame Claystone, according to her placard—the head of the society—and she wore an elegant formal gown. “It is true—we have not decided that any course of action need be taken whatsoever. Several of our number have brought forth grievances on behalf of our animal friends, but there has been no consensus. Perhaps we should take a vote to that effect presently.”

She then cocked her ears to the group, taking in the hubbub of murmurs and declarations that emerged. The ponies appeared to have no rules of order, save respect for one another and for the lady’s hammer.

“Very well,” said Dame Claystone. “All those who are currently inclined to make no reforms with respect to animal rights?”

Even those ponies who raised their hooves did so with hesitance. Hope Topaz was among them.

The dame nodded. “Those inclined to pursue reforms?”

There was still hesitance, but less, and the number of raised hooves was considerably greater.

Dame Claystone cast a look of acknowledgment across the table. In the middle of the other end sat Twilight Sparkle in her white mortarboard and tie; she had not voted.

“It would seem that some form of reform is most likely called for, unless our reformers’ wishes are in direct contradiction,” said the dame.

Murmuring followed for some moments, and the blue stallion was first to make his voice heard. “With respect to Mrs. Topaz, there is unrest in Equestria. It’s just that it’s often hard to know about, because we don’t communicate much with the animal populations.”

Jennylope Aster cut in. “But if they really _were_ unhappy, surely they _would_ communicate with us, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t we have some sign? For instance, lightning bugs are falling off. They have trouble finding places to mate, with ponies building so close and so bright. Frogs are having to squeeze into smaller spaces, too. True, they aren’t complaining, but I don’t think they know how.”

Hope Topaz tossed a lock of her hair dramatically. “Are we speaking of animals acute enough to be considered persons under some fringe theory, or are we speaking of the animal kingdom at large?”

“I think we’re speaking of both,” said Clearscape, the pegasus from San Palamino.

“But not at one time,” replied Hope Topaz. “If I’m to be swindled, I would like my swindlers to be consistent in doing so.”

“Now hold on, no one’s getting swindled!” interjected the yellow stallion with the western twang. “We’re here to talk this out neighborly. And what with this meeting and the one tomorrow, I’d say we’ve got plenty of time to discuss one thing at a time.”

“Where do we draw the line, anyway?” demanded a small stallion, his coat steely silver. “I mean, who are we to say, for example, that rabbits count as people but frogs don’t?”

The green forest stallion, Penduluminus, said: “It certainly isn’t a decision to be made lightly. We could watch and learn and judge… but we could be wrong.”

There was a brief pause. It was broken by the sole zebra, a gnarled stallion with a slow, commanding voice: “There was a time when cattle, goats and sheep had voices not, and minds that lay asleep. Does anyone recall what helpful force awakened them unto their proper course?”

A moment’s silence followed, as it seemed like it should. Then Clearscape spoke: “You don’t mean, like, ten thousand years ago, do you? You mean the more modern events that led to them having legal standing?”

The zebra nodded and a few ponies murmured agreement. “It was a case brought before Princess Celestia, I thought,” said someone.

“Yes, but before that it went before the Palamine High Court, and before that it was a local magisterium,” said a maroon unicorn in a baggy beret.

“And what did they decide?” asked Clearscape.

The maroon unicorn replied. “On the local level, the magistrate decided that non-equine ungulates were entitled to protections from harm, but not to the privileges of society, such as the ability to buy goods and services from businesses regardless of the will of the seller, or the guaranteed right to attend public events. To vote, and to run for office, and perhaps most notably, to receive a free education.”

For the first time, Twilight Sparkle spoke, and almost every head turned her way. “Why do you consider that the most notable part of the ruling?”

The bereted unicorn took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Because without equal education, there is little remedy for inequality in general,” he pronounced.

Several voices attempted to speak at once. Dame Claystone rapped her hammer and, with a gesture of her head, indicated who was to speak next.

It was the gnarled zebra. “They feared that education might do harm to keeping natural order on a farm. And they were right, except that nature’s order is more like rain, and less like brick and mortar.”

“Anypony else thinking we should’ve sprung for a Zebrican translator?” asked the stallion in the cowboy hat.

“I understand him,” said Clearscape. “He’s saying that there’s nothing innately natural about farm stock being _beneath_ anyone else. Or that if there is, it can change, as nature does.”

“Nature does not change just because ponies say it does,” protested Hope Topaz.

The steel-silver pegasus spoke up. “What is nature, anyway? Isn’t it everything that _isn’t_ done by people? So when we started thinking of the non-equine ungulates as people, didn’t the whole ‘natural order’ idea stop applying?”

The room’s sole donkey, a jenny with her mane colored in stripes, spoke up. “And before that, my own people had troubles. You might say they were the kind of troubles what come from not being counted as people. One way to see it, anyways.”

The blue earth stallion stood a little taller. “I believe in the right to education, but before all, I believe everyone has the right to _know_ their rights. A lot of farm stock aren’t even aware they have the right to freedom, and there are farmers across this land, but especially in the Badlands, who are all too happy to let them think so.”

“Oh, come on,” said a violet earth mare.

“Is that really so?” asked the light green unicorn.

The blue stallion unfurled a scroll. “And that’s why I’ve written up this boilerplate text which I propose mandating all Equestrian farmers to read to their entire stock, twice a year. Whether they think the stock can understand them or not. It informs them that they have the right to leave at any time they wish; that they are not slaves; that they can refuse service to the farmer whenever they like, and that while the farmer has the right to dismiss them if they do, they cannot be forced to work against their will, and that the kingdom of Equestria will support them in all of these particulars should it come to it.”

There were numerous responses—a few ‘Hear, hear!’s and applause mixed in with cries of dismay. “That is _blatant_ stirring of the pot!” exclaimed Hope Topaz.

“I can’t imagine my farmer friends doing that,” said the cowboy hatted earth stallion.

“I don’t know, it seems pretty fair to me,” put in the yellow one.

“You said all their stock, right?” asked a strawberry pink little pegasus. “Does that mean farmers wouldn’t be allowed to catch runaway dogs anymore? Assuming that any dog who runs away is just exercising their right to go free?”

“Not to mention escaped ladybugs,” added somepony out of sight, “and other animals farmers keep that couldn’t _possibly_ know what they’re doing.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” cut in a voice.

“Are we debating whether _insects_ are people now?!” shouted another.

Once more Dame Claystone rapped for order and nodded to the blue stallion with the scroll.

“It wouldn’t apply to insects, no… but look. I was just proposing a law that farmers have to read these rights. I wasn’t trying to decide how far they should extend.”

“Sounds like a matter for Celestia,” said Jennylope Aster.

“Shouldn’t we be careful that the text reflect the actual law?” inquired the professorial maroon unicorn.

“I only imagined it applying to hoofstock,” said the blue stallion, “but I wouldn’t object to a broader scope.”

“And to determine that scope,” said Penduluminus, “we still need a test of animal intelligence. That appears to be what it all boils down to.”

“When you say a test,” put in Clearscape, “do you mean the sort of things scientists carry out? Observing an animal to see how it reacts? Or do you mean… like, the animals would _take_ a test?”

Penduluminus cleared his throat. “I should imagine any creature clever enough to understand the purpose of a personhood test would surely be a person.”

“I would advise you _not_ to jump to that conclusion,” said the violet earth mare.

“Why, don’t you think understanding of abstract concepts is the essence of personhood?”

Another few voices jumped in with objections. Dame Claystone struck her hammer.

“It would appear that regarding the matter of civil rights, some kind of personhood test is called for,” she pronounced. “However, the nature of that test is something yet to be decided.”

“Doubt we’ll be able to agree on one,” said the brown stallion with the cowboy hat.

“I don’t actually have a proposal,” said Penduluminus.

“It’s the sort of thing you need scientists for,” said Jennylope Aster.

“It’s the sort of thing meant to bring chaos to our kingdom and topple our monarchy,” protested Hope Topaz.

“Then I know exactly who should design it,” said Clearscape.

For a brief span, there was silence.

“And that is?” asked the steel-colored pegasus.

Clearscape rose to her full petite height and turned to address everyone at once. “We need a test of personhood. We need someone to design it who understands ponies, and who understands scientific ideas like reliability and bias. We need an academic, preferably a scientist. Someone intelligent, with experience, preferably someone who’s traveled all over Equestria, and someone who cares intimately about the future of the country.” She glared at Hope Topaz. “And in order to belay accusations that the whole thing is just a plot to topple the monarchy, it would be best to choose someone with a strong interest in making sure that it maintains power.”

By the time she was done talking, an awful lot of eyes had turned toward Twilight Sparkle.

“What, me?” asked Twilight, rising. The little white tassel of her mortarboard swung in front of her face.

Clearscape smiled. “I was hinting at you, yes."

“I think that’s a swell idea!” contributed the yellow earth stallion.

“Given her reputation,” said the maroon unicorn, “I could hardly disapprove.”

Dame Claystone’s hammer rang out once, crystal clear. “Your highness,” she said, bowing slightly across the table. “Would you assent to creating such a test? It would be employed to determine who is, and who is not, a person for the purpose of local laws, and of course the monarchy would have the option of employing it on the national level.”

Twilight Sparkle stood in bafflement, her tassel still swinging. She blew it out of her face and remained in thought for a good fifteen seconds. “I can try!” she said at last.

There was applause, though there were also scowls and crossed forelegs. Dame Claystone retook the floor and called a vote. “All in favor of Her Royal Highness, the Princess Twilight Sparkle, designing a personhood test for our society on which we can vote?”

Plenty of forelegs cut through the air.

“All opposed to this measure?”

Legs, but fewer.

Dame Claystone set her front hooves before her and placed them neatly together. “We choose to prevail upon your kindness,” she told Twilight Sparkle with an elegant finality. “Will you have a recommendation for us by tomorrow’s meeting?”

“…Tomorrow?”

“It is quite possible that we will lack another opportunity to vote on this matter for an entire year, assuming this conference is reprised,” said Dame Claystone. “If need be, we can call a special meeting. Yet your highness perceives that if a test, or at least a recommendation for such, could be presented by noon tomorrow, it would be terribly convenient?”

Twilight nodded nervously. “Yes, of course. I’ll… do my best!”

“In that case,” said the Dame, “I propose a recess of a quarter hour, after which we will proceed to topics related to conservation. All in favor?”

A flurry of hooves went up. There was a swirl cut—a _swirl cut—_ to what must have been the previous night’s mixer. The orange-haired yellow stallion from the meeting was smiling amiably at the camera.

“And you are?” asked Rainbow Dash’s voice.

“Aw, heck, you know me, Rainbow Dash!” he replied. “I’m your friend Applejack’s favorite cousin, Braeburn!”

“And you’re representing where?”

The stallion stood stock still for a second, then reared up. “AaaAaAaAAaaaa—”

His answer cut to an oil painting of Twilight Sparkle sitting under an apple tree, woozy with question marks from an apple just having bounced off her head. “ _Life in Equestria_ will be back after these messages,” said her voice.

* * *

======================================

* * *

“Oh, that was Braeburn?” I looked at Peach. “I remember hearing his name, but I didn’t know what he looked like.”

“You never saw his episode? The one with the buffalo?”

“Buffalo? No, must not have seen that one.” So _that_ was why my Buffalo Bulls pennant had made her curious the first time she’d visited me.

Peach stood up. “Huh! Even I’ve seen all the episodes, and I already _know_ what Equestria is like.”

I felt a little guilty. “Now that I have a pony friend, you think I should fill in all the episodes I missed?”

She went and rummaged through my cupboard, speaking all the while. “Well, think about it. It’s not just for a culture lesson. These shows are a phenomenon! For both our worlds. Sure, we have cities with similar names and similarities in our cultures and all these weird connections that make our worlds seem like puns of each other, but the show is where we _really_ came together. For six years, a small group of human beings conceived of stories, wrote dialogue for them, came up with character and set designs…” She emerged from the cupboard with a pack of graham crackers I’d nearly forgotten was in there. “And what they created, down to the smallest detail, turned out to be _exactly_ what really happened in my world. Are you getting what I’m saying?”

“I think so. You’re saying the connection between this world and yours is like a perfect storm of coincidences, and the show is at the heart of that storm.”

“Right. So everyone should watch it, even if they didn’t know or care about the show when you guys were making it. Even if you’ve never met a pony, or you’re a pony who’s never met a human and you never plan to, you should _still_ watch the whole run, because this is something _incredible_ and who knows when it could happen again.”

I pointed to the graham crackers she’d just stuck together with peanut butter. “You know, I use those crackers for pie crusts. I never just eat them for snacks.”

She sat down next to me. “Then you should thank me for giving you the idea.”

“Thank you,” I said. “For all your ideas.”

Peach looked uncertainly at me and bit her lower lip. It was obvious she was weighing the idea of saying something, so I put my hands neatly in my lap and looked at her eyes, in case it was something like, ‘I’ve decided I want you to be my boyfriend after all.’ But as she looked back, her uncertainty grew into a big self-conscious smile and she burst out chuckling. I had a pretty big grin by then myself.

“You know,” I observed, “it looks like this episode is turning out to be pretty neat and tidy after all. Twilight goes to a new place, she’s presented with a problem in the second act, and she probably solves it by the end.”

“Just as if it were written that way,” said Peach.

“More or less. And come to think of it, most _Twilight Sparkle_ episodes work out about that way. So what does that prove?”

“Maybe just that editing is a powerful force.”

I grinned. “So Rainbow Dash was right, and post-production _is_ magic?”

“Maybe just plain production is magic. Creation. Taking little parts and making something beautiful.”

I remembered playing with her electromagnetic erector set and sighed wistfully. “Or it could mean that your world really is built for stories.”

As she sat in consideration, a few strands of her tail touched my leg, though I couldn’t feel them through my jeans. “I’m not sure if I like that idea or not,” she eventually said.

“I like it,” I offered.

“Well, that’s easy for you to say,” said Peach, looking at me. “But you’re not the one who has to deal with being _from_ there.”

I thought about how adrift I’d been feeling lately. “I kind of wish I were.”

Peach smiled a little. She was about to say something. But then came an oil plate of Twilight holding up a stack of apples in triumph, the word “EUREKA!” painted over her head, and we returned to _Life in Equestria_.

* * *

======================================

* * *

“—ppleoosa!” said Braeburn, crashing down to all fours.

The scene opened on another lecture room, slightly bigger than the first. Fluttershy sat hunched on a chair, listening shyly while a lecturer spoke. Bailey sat cuddled beside her with his own head raised attentively. On the other side, a young coral-colored pegasus gushed in a low voice, causing Fluttershy to look more and more embarrassed.

The excited pegasus leaned back to the next row of seats. “It’s Fluttershy!” she half-whispered. “It’s really her! _The_ Fluttershy!”

Bailey leapt over, hovering in the face of the coral-colored pegasus and beating his wings loudly. “WAACK!” he shouted.

The fangirl cringed and pawed lamely at the duck before jumping down and hurrying away. “Sorry sorry sorry!”

Fluttershy loosened up a little and gave Bailey a grateful smile.

“Is there a problem?” asked the lecturer. The camera swung quickly his way.

“No sir,” said Fluttershy, too quietly to be heard at the front of the room.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, no problem!” called Spike’s voice.

The lecturer frowned and continued. Slowly the camera turned back to Fluttershy and Bailey, now sitting in contentment.

* * *

The footage went to black and white. We were then shown a series of black and white stills in quick succession, accompanied by jazzy rock and the sound of a camera taking pictures. Fluttershy, with Bailey on her back, gradually made her way through a long line in what seemed to be a food court. Then came a color shot of a stand whose sign cheerfully proclaimed, “Vegetable Rights!” And below that, in fine script: “Selling products made from naturally fallen vegetables since 932.”

The camera edged right to reveal a handful of ponies holding up signs. “VEGETABLES DESERVE OUR COMPASSION,” read one. “VEGETABLES HAVE RIGHTS TOO,” read another.

“Are you kidding me?” asked Spike, presumably behind the camera. “ _Vegetable_ rights? What’s next, gem rights?”

“I think it’s admirable,” said Fluttershy. “All those ponies standing up for what they believe in. I… I may have to reconsider where I get my vegetables.”

“I suppose now it’s cruel for Applejack and her family to buck their trees for apples,” japed Spike.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Fluttershy, looking uncertain. “The trees are strong, and they can take it. Apples are fruits, after all. I think it’s more that they don’t approve of growing vegetables _just_ so they can be eaten.”

“Well, gems occur naturally,” said Spike. “At least, the good ones do. I’ve tried some of those synthetic gemstones from Las Pegasus, but, ewww. Would not eat again.”

The footage went back to black and white, and in a series of stills we saw Fluttershy advance to the front of the line and point to the words “HAPPY DOG” on the stand’s exterior. Next came Fluttershy and Spike happily holding carrots in buns, each ‘happy dog’ adorned with pearl onions, alfalfa sprouts and pimentos arranged in the shape of a smiling face. The final still showed them happily eating them. The background music blared to a close.

* * *

Now, again in color, Spike and Fluttershy sat on either side of a hassock, playing cards. Sofas sat to either side of them, unused except for a pile of what must have been Spike’s camera equipment. Ponies passed by in the background as we approached.

Twilight Sparkle walked up, removing her necktie and hat and casting them magically aside. “There you are!”

Fluttershy and Spike looked up. “Is everything okay, Twilight?” asked Fluttershy.

“Not really!” said Twilight. “They gave me homework!”

Spike stood up. “But…but I thought you liked homework.”

“I like it when Celestia gives it to me! But this is different. This is important, and real!”

“Is there any way we can help?” asked Fluttershy, setting down her cards.

“Yes. You can do a survey of the ponies at this conference. Ask them what they think it means to be a person. And if you have time, ask them what rights they think all persons ought to have, and how one can tell whether a given individual or species is worthy of those rights.”

Fluttershy was aghast. “…Really?”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash’s voice. “Now you’re giving _us_ homework?”

“Well, I _am_ a princess,” said Twilight.

Fluttershy stood proudly and raised her wings. “I’ll do what I can!” she decided. Spike reached out to sneak a peek at her cards, and the scene lost its vertical hold and went blurry.

* * *

When it came back, we were looking at Rainbow Dash’s face from a weird, low, diagonal angle. “All right,” she said. “We’re gonna start by interviewing each other.”

* * *

The shot cut out with a burst of noise. Now Spike stood in front of a balustrade, enjoying a lime green sucker. “What is a person?” he repeated. “Huh. I guess it’s someone you can talk to. Someone you can care for, and who can care for you.”

“Is it enough you can talk to them?” asked an off-screen Rainbow Dash, “or do they have to talk back?”

“Oh, well they’ve got to talk back.” Spike sucked his sucker with a pop. “Or at least you’ve got to have _some_ way to understand them.”

“What if they say stuff, but it’s only dumb stuff like ‘Arf arf’ or ‘Meow’?”

Spike frowned. “Well, I guess that’s not really saying something. Unless it is?”

“Maybe it is! Maybe it’s saying stuff like, ‘Someone’s here!’ or ‘Look out, I’m about to jump on your head!’”

Spike sucked his sucker again and swirled the juice around in thought. “Then I guess maybe cats and dogs really _are_ people.”

“So should they have all the same rights we do?”

“Sure, I guess! What’s the harm? Just so long as we can punish them if they do something really dumb.”

“Do you think they would?”

He shrugged. “Probably. I mean, who doesn’t?” With that, the young dragon crunched his sucker to bits, savoring the shards.

* * *

Fluttershy stood outside on the plaza, the convention center rising to one side behind her. There was a hubbub of carts, ponies and birds in the background.

Rainbow’s voice. “What do you think a person is, Fluttershy?”

“A person is a very special kind of creature,” she replied. “Not only do people change the world around them, but they think complex thoughts and make plans and develop traditions.”

“And animals don’t do any of that?”

The yellow pegasus shied away slightly. “Well, not as much.”

“Not as much?” moaned Rainbow. “So how much have you got to do all that stuff before you’re a person?”

Fluttershy thought about this. “I’m not sure, Rainbow Dash. But I’ll just say this: I can always tell a person from an animal. Animals are more innocent.”

“What about Angel? You can’t try to tell me _he’s_ innocent.”

“It’s true, Angel can be a hoofful. But we have to forgive him when he makes trouble. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Fluttershy stood looking earnest for a few moments before the scene jumped again.

* * *

Now Rainbow was in front of the camera near what seemed to be one of the convention center’s upper windows.

“So what you do think, Rainbow?” asked an off-camera Spike. “Is Tank a person?”

Rainbow, who had looked confident and ready for a question, was caught off guard. “Tank?! Well… no, I mean… he’s a cool guy and all, and loyal to a fault, but he’s not really a _person_.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I mean, he’s just a tortoise. He doesn’t really do anything except be there when I need him, and walk around, and eat, sleep, and practice his flying.”

“Well, aren’t there some ponies like that?”

Rainbow scrunched her face in thought. “Yeah, I guess I knew a few folks like that in Cloudsdale. I mean, _I_ take naps so I can be ready for whatever life throws at me.” She jaunted herself dramatically to one side. “ _They_ take naps so they can be ready for _more_ naps.”

“So are those pegasi not really people?”

Rainbow slowly straightened up. “I dunno, that seems harsh. I mean, they’re still living in cloudhomes and sometimes people visit. So, you know, they’re part of civilization.”

“So is that what makes someone a person? Being part of civilization?”

Rainbow smiled. “Yeah, I guess. After all, you’ve gotta play to win, right?”

* * *

Cut to Bailey, standing on the concrete plaza near a bench and staring at the audience.

“So Bailey,” said Rainbow’s voice. “What do you think makes someone a person?”

The duck spread his wings to their full breadth and stood on tiptoes. “BWAAAAAH!!” he said.

Cut to static.

* * *

Again we wound through the convention center, but this time from a low elevation. Thick crowds lay before us. We were greeted by Spike’s voice: “So right now it’s between events. Lots of ponies are out wandering now and I’m going to interview them.”

We came up to a knot of protesters armed with a megaphone, giant pictures of sad-looking animals, and signs reading “FULL ANIMAL RIGHTS NOW”. We angled toward them, then away again as if Spike had lost his nerve, and then back toward them again.

Now we were talking to a yellow earth mare with a recycling symbol for a cutie mark.

“So, do you think of animals as people?” asked Spike.

“Of course not,” said the protester. “But why should that matter? Animals have feelings, and anyone with feelings deserves to be treated as the equal of anyone else with feelings, whether we call them people or not.”

Spike apparently couldn’t resist. “Does that mean a dragon is equal to a pony?” he asked slyly.

“It does. Dragons and ponies are different, but we all share the same standing in an ideal society.”

“Does that mean you think dragons should get to compete in ice archery tournaments?”

She looked uneasy. “Well, not if they use fire to cheat.”

“But asking a dragon not to use fire on ice is like asking a bird to fly without using its wings!”

She laughed, cracking her hard facade. “I doubt that! But every sport needs its rules. We all have to follow the same rules, regardless of our physical capabilities.”

* * *

The scene crossfaded to a new pony in the same crowd, a dark brown pegasus mare with green hair. “Do you think animals should have the same rights as ponies?” asked Spike.

“I do not!” she said in a sprightly voice, flaring out her wings. “It would be senseless. If you have rights, you’ve got to have responsibilities, and if we give animals responsibilities they don’t understand, we’re just asking for trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

She smirked. “Well… imagine a team of guards arresting every single locust in a field for theft of property.”

Spike snerked. “Sounds ridiculous.”

“And imagine all those locusts getting their rights read to them, and being given trials, and getting sentenced to things they can’t do, or else getting put in jail and ponies having to care for them.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. But they wouldn’t really give rights to _locusts_ , would they?”

The brown pegasus shrugged. “Where do you draw the line?”

“So you don’t think we should give rights to _any_ animals?” asked Spike.

“I think we’ve already done what we should do. Goats and sheep got full standing a couple generations ago, and that was overdue. This new wave of argument is just because of well-meaning Terraners with no idea of how things really are here.”

“So you don’t think the humans have a point?”

The pegasus looked down just past us, her eyes focusing smugly. “You know, they have child labor laws on Earth. If we did everything the way they want us to, a fifteen-year-old dragon like you wouldn’t be allowed to go around working on a TV show.”

The camera jerked a little. “I… I wouldn’t?”

She smirked. “Of course not! You’d have to be _sixteen!_ ”

“What? But… but I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months!”

“Sure. So you tell me—does that rule make any sense?”

The camera’s focus blurred, freezing the brown mare’s face with one scampish eyebrow raised. A foreboding musical snare played before the scene jerked out.

* * *

The focus unblurred on a forest green earth stallion with dark orange hair who spoke with a light voice and a funny accent. “Honestly? A true person is someone with a destiny. And our haunch marks are the proof of that.” He stepped a hind leg forward to display his cutie mark: a snare made from a bent sapling.

“Wait,” said Spike. “Are you saying anyone without a cutie mark isn’t a real person? Including me?”

“Not needfully. Magic has many ways of reifying destiny. Dragons are highly magical beasts, are you not? You may well have destinies in your own form.”

“Well maybe. But Twilight always says it’s a treasure to get to make your own future.”

“Perhaps. What I am confident of is that the likes of donkeys and bison have no destinies. They are living puppets, taught to act like true people, but in their hearts they are not.”

“Wow. You don’t think even _donkeys_ are people? But we have a donkey couple living in my home town! Sure, they’re a little quiet, but they do things with us, and they act more or less like anyone else.”

“Mimickry is a powerful force,” said the green stallion. “And you did ask my honest opinion.”

* * *

Another jump cut left us facing a blood red unicorn stallion with fancy embroidered barding. “What is a person? Someone with the capacity for great joy, and also for great pain. The animal ego is simple, instinctive. Less developed.”

“Um. But what about animal mothers, crying for their babies when they get taken away? Isn’t that great pain?”

The stallion took a crooked step forward and winked. “Believe me, that’s nothing compared to the pain a _person_ can feel.”

The camera’s angle staggered. “Uh, okay!” said Spike. “Thanks for your time!” The red stallion frowned as the scene cut out.

* * *

Next came a very light gray pegasus mare with blue earrings. “I would say what separates us from the animals is our grasp of complex concepts,” she expounded carefully. “The ability to reason.”

“Okay, but how complex is complex?” asked Rainbow’s voice. “I mean, I don’t really think of goats as complex thinkers, but we think of them as people.”

“Well, it was established some time ago that goats have their own language! So it was quite right to grant them full citizenship. I believe scholars have established the same for most antelope families, and I expect it won’t be long before they’re recognized as people as well.”

“What about beavers? Don’t they have their own language?”

“Yes—bears, beavers, crows and a few other species appear to have languages capable of expressing complex thoughts. I would be in favor of extending rights to them, although many would disagree.”

* * *

Jump cut. We now faced a small mud-colored earth stallion in a neat suede jacket. “A person? Everypony knows what a person is. One of the great races. Ponies, zebras, donkeys, dragons, griffons, and so on like that.”

“So…” said Rainbow slowly. “You think only the people who we already think of as people should be people?”

“I don’t really see what you’re asking. As I said, it’s something everypony already knows.”

* * *

Jump cut. A thick crowd wandered along a broad hallway, talking excitedly. At the heart of it strode a lean yellow pegasus with a green denim explorer’s coat, exuding chutzpah.

The camera’s angle rose jerkily into the air. “Daring Do!” shouted Rainbow’s voice. “Hey Daring! What makes a person a person?!”

The explorer looked over, surprised. “Is this a riddle?” she yelled back.

“Sure, if you want it to be!”

The yellow pegasus slowed her pace, and the murmuring crowd slowed with her. “The willingness to do what has to be done!” she eventually decided. A hearty cheer rose from some of her entourage.

The camera continued to bob. “So… a coward isn’t really a person?” asked Rainbow.

“Not yet,” said Daring Do. “Not until they take their chance!” With a second cheer, the adoring crowd hoisted her onto their backs and carried her away in a cloud of ponies. Her voice cut through once more: “Wait, that wasn’t right, was it? What’s the real answer?"

* * *

But another jump cut left us staring at a pair of unicorn foals in Baltimare Orioles caps with tiny pinwheels sticking up. Both grinned hugely at the camera.

“The question is: What do you think a person is?” asked Rainbow.

The yellow filly crept forward. “I don’t know, but I do know what a happy person is!”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“A happy person is someone who’s just been asked what a person is by Rainbow Dash! Of the WONDERBOLTS!!”

“ _Rainbow Dash!!_ ” added the equally exuberant red-orange colt.

“Uhh… well to be fair, I’m back on the reserves these days.”

“Is it true you helped save the Crystal Empire? By _jousting??_ ”

“Yeah, and did you really do a Sonic Rainboom at Princess Cadance’s wedding?”

The foals were grinning creepily large grins and stepping closer. Their pinwheels were spinning for no obvious reason. “Uh, no, pretty sure that was some other Rainbow Dash,” said Rainbow hastily. “ _I_ should be going.”

The camera turned around and started to move. “And is it true that you rescued Daring Do from a temple of lava?”

“And is it true that y—”

* * *

Jump cut. Now we faced a husky warm brown earth mare in a fashionable harness. “What is a person?” she mused. “Well, it’s folks. I mean, what are you really asking?”

“Well,” said Rainbow, “the real question is, how do we know who should have rights, and who shouldn’t?”

The large mare chuckled, sitting down on the tile floor. “Well if that’s your question, you should put it like that to begin with, shouldn’t you? The whole ‘what’s a person’ thing just muddies the issue. ‘Person’ is just an idea, and if an idea starts getting hard to use, you don’t gotta keep using it!”

“Then what should we use?”

She tapped her head. “Our brains. We oughta use the noggins we were born with to decide whether some group of whoever oughta have some particular right. Take it case by case. Ask yourself what the consequence would be, and make the decision according to that.”

“Wouldn’t that be a lot of work?”

“Well, yes, honey, it’d be a lot of work. It’s bound to be.” She scooted forward, as if in confidence. “But this is a big issue we’re discussing here, isn’t it? Isn’t it worth taking the time to get it right?”

An abrupt cut to black, followed by silence.

* * *

Twilight Sparkle sat on a low wooden booth across a table from a familiar figure. It was the erudite maroon unicorn from the society meeting. He’d taken off his beret and put it on the table. Glasses of water sat before both.

Twilight turned to look at us. “So! For the viewers, this is Vellum Crux, professor of law at Vanhoofer University and the Vanhoofer delegate to the EOS.”

He leaned in toward us and gave a little wave. “Hi.”

“Professor, you took part in the discussion earlier today on whether and how to grant personhood rights to animals. But that was a large group, and not everypony had a chance to share their opinion. What are your thoughts?”

The unicorn took a moment to gather himself. “Well, I have quite a few! As you’ve gathered, this is a complex issue. To begin with, I think it’s right that we should look back to the closest historical example we have available, the 941 ruling on the legal status of goats, sheep, cattle, moose, llamas, alpacas, vicuñas, and yaks.”

“Oh! Was it really that broad?”

“It was when Celestia ruled, though not in the Palamine case. We tend to forget that in many cases, such as this one, the fate of the minor races was entwined with that of the more familiar ones. That was often due to Celestia’s personal initiative, since she expressed the desire to decide related cases all at once and have it done with.”

“She didn’t want to leave anyone out,” mused Twilight.

“Except that, of course, she did,” said Vellum Crux. “The entire antelope subfamily was excluded, as were deer and giraffes. Notes later officially released from the Sun Court revealed that she had originally intended to include them as well, but moved away from her position for some reason.”

“Huh!” Twilight was leaning on the table, fascinated. “Was there any sign of why?”

“There were reports of the royal antelopologist visiting the palace. Perhaps she shared a less than flattering analysis?”

“That suggests that a test may have actual royal precedent,” said Twilight thoughtfully. She leaned on the table in silence for a while. “I suppose I could just ask her.”

“I wasn’t going to presume. Do you have any way to contact her by tomorrow?”

Twilight gestured over toward the camera.

“Ah, yes,” said the professor, looking over. “Of course.”

“Hi,” said Spike’s voice.

“I was actually hoping to solve this on my own,” said Twilight, “but you’re right. Legal precedent is important here, and it was less than seventy years ago—there’s a good chance she’ll remember her reasoning.”

“So you’ll write to Celestia.”

“I suppose I should! But let’s talk about this further. Our wine isn’t even here yet.”

The professor settled back and smiled. “Was there any particular angle you wanted to discuss?”

Twilight leaned forward, engrossed. “Well, you did bring up the importance of free education as being fundamental to all other rights…”

“Ah yes! What I meant was that if an individual or cultural group within a species is educated to less than its potential, it may give the appearance of being insufficiently sophisticated to warrant other rights.”

“And yet!” Twilight jumped in, shifting forward until she was halfway on the table. “That may paradoxically in itself lead to that individual or group being denied the right to further education, which is exactly what it needs!”

“Precisely!” said Vellum Crux. “And therefore, unless one can develop a test for raw intelligence regardless of education level, the right to education must be unbundled from the other rights!”

At that point, a waiter showed up with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Twilight licked her lips, then turned to look just past us. “You can turn the camera off now, Spike. This discussion may be getting… technical.”

As the waiter proceeded to pour the wine, the image collapsed to a single point, and the screen went black.

* * *

Suddenly we were looking at a hotel room, our view careening from one side to the other. Clothes and small items were scattered across the floor, and Fluttershy was holding Twilight back, her wings beating hard to keep her aloft. Twilight was swinging her front hooves fiercely at an open duffel bag on the bed, her eyes burning with anger.

“You’d better give her the punching bag, Spike!” shouted Rainbow’s voice. Spike, who was looking on in shock, hurried over to pack the duffel bag full of soft things, including a sheet from the bed. When he zipped it up and stood back, Twilight tore loose from Fluttershy’s grip and threw herself at it. She punched it across the room, upsetting a clock and a day planner.

The camera followed Twilight as she pummeled the bag around the room, tossing it and knocking it out of the air. “That prabbling, silver-tongued, deceiving presumptious prig!” she yelled. “Dissembler! That shameless, smooze-headed slime-spined _flirt!_ ”

The flying duffel nearly hit us, but we zoomed aside in time to dodge. “Twilight!” shouted Rainbow. “Pull yourself together!”

“Please calm down, Twilight,” pled Fluttershy.

“ _He was married! He was married the whole time!_ ”

“He never said he wasn’t!” protested Spike.

“He did with his eyes! With his tone, with his words…” She hurled and whacked the duffel bag again, this time knocking books off a shelf.

Rainbow Dash flew out from behind the camera. “I’m gonna hold it steady for her! Better than smashing up the room! Twi, look, I’ve got the punching bag, I’m holding it for you!”

Twilight gathered her strength and threw back her wings, literally flying into the duffel bag while Rainbow clutched it. The screen went black a moment before a loud crash.

* * *

We returned to a sitting area in front of a huge window looking out on the Baltimare sunset. A scroll was spread over a wooden coffee table. Twilight paced nervously beside the window while Spike sat in silence.

“Spike, take a letter.”

The dragon dipped his quill in an inkwell. “On it.”

Twilight eventually stopped pacing. “Dear Celestia. Baltimare has been lovely. The sights, the atmosphere, the _ponies_.” She hesitated while Spike wrote. “Spike, can you underline ‘ponies’? But do it in a dark way, so it looks like I’m being sarcastic.”

“Dark… underline. Check.”

* * *

Wash cut to a dozen ponies around a table in a small meeting room, a lively discussion in progress. A large sheet of paper covered the table, itself covered with a complicated web of words, shapes, and drawings of animals. Twilight was there with her narrow glasses, pointing and saying things that couldn’t be made out above the clamor.

Next to her, Spike suddenly went puffy-cheeked and belched out a scroll in a cloud of green smoke.

Twilight looked at him in alarm. She seized the dragon with her magic and dragged him toward the door. “Sorry folks, I’ve got to take this.”

* * *

Now out in the hallway, Twilight paced as she read, Spike following behind. “My dearest Twilight Sparkle. I’m so glad that you’re enjoying your duties as royal representative to our kingdom’s first animal rights conference.” She paused. “Celestia never _gets_ sarcasm in my letters, does she?”

“Maybe she’s being sarcastic too,” suggested Spike.

Twilight read on. “…hope that while you’re there… pleased that you’re taking your role seriously… not surprised that the society blah blah blah… all right, here we are. The case you refer to has crossed my mind frequently in the intervening years. My reason for not extending a full suite of legal rights to the antelopes was simply that I knew of no antelope within the borders of Equestria desirous of making a legal claim. Those few antelopes in our kingdom tended to be nomads or visitors, and I of course had no jurisdiction over the antelope homelands to the far south. It was my thought to be conservative, not expansive, with my ruling to the extent that in doing so I was not depriving any worthy persons of property or protection.” She paused for thought.

“What does that mean?” asked Spike.

“It means my mentor isn’t any help,” groused Twilight. She scanned through the rest of the scroll. “Yep. She seems to have granted rights to these species just because they seemed obviously ‘worthy’ to her. So, no precedent at all, unless we want to make every individual who wants to be considered for personhood go petition Celestia. And she won’t have time for that!”

“Oh. Sorry to hear. Yeah, that does sound a little messy.”

“Or,” continued Twilight as she walked, “we could limit personhood rights to being granted on a species by species basis. But then if you get an outlier, an unusually intelligent individual, they could petition Celestia and their whole species would be given personhood and that would lead to improper treatment for the rest of them!”

“So we need a test,” said Spike.

Twilight stopped abruptly. “Yes we need a test, that was the whole _point_ of this! But what? What can people do that nothing else can?”

“…Get worked up over stuff like this?” suggested Spike.

Twilight glared back at him. “…Sufficient, but not necessary,” she concluded. “I’m going to go watch those interviews.” She glanced back at the camera. “Get ‘em queued up, Rainbow.”

* * *

There was a slow fade in on Twilight, sitting in her still disheveled hotel room, looking weary. “Well, I just finished watching the interviews,” she told the motionless camera. “There were almost fifty of them, on top of the survey Fluttershy did, and they were all over the map! And I’m really no closer to devising a test than I was an hour ago.” She looked out the window, black as night. “And it’s almost midnight! What am I going to tell the EOS tomorrow?”

“Aw, come on, Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash, bouncing lightly on the other bed while lying on her belly. “You mean we did all that interviewing for nothing? You must have had some sort of opinions while you were watching, right?”

“Well, sure. Some of those perspectives were more insightful than others.”

“So were any of them _right?_ ”

“Well… I suppose the perspective I’m most sympathetic to is the idea that speech is tied to personhood, because it’s the best vehicle we have for abstract concepts. But my mind just keeps going back to Celestia’s letter, and how, for her, the only real way of knowing if someone was a person was to _meet_ them.”

“Do you really think that’s the only way? To give everyone who wants rights an appointment with Celestia?”

“Or with me,” Twilight groaned, putting a pillow over her head.

“Sounds like a lot of work.” Rainbow stood up on the bed, making it spring further down.

“Exactly. It would be a logistical nightmare,” she moaned. “But it just might be what I have to tell them!”

Rainbow bounced a little in place. “Ahh, well maybe you and the big C could train someone to do it for you. Someone you trust to judge, so you could keep doing princess stuff.”

Twilight set aside the pillow. “Yes, that’s a good point,” she admitted. “But I’d still want to have a set of training guidelines I could show them by tomorrow.”

There was a gentle knock on the door, followed by a louder one.

“Come in?” said Twilight.

Fluttershy meekly entered the room. “I hope you don’t mind. But Bailey wanted to come up and see the suite.” Bailey the duck followed after, taking a look around. He let loose a ‘waack’ and flew up and out of sight.

“You brought your duck into our hotel room?” asked Rainbow in annoyance. “What if he messes something up?”

Fluttershy gave Rainbow a look. “I think we’ve already given this room a bit of a workout.”

“Oh yeah. The whole duffel bag thing. Well, whatever.” Rainbow slumped down on the edge of the bed, tilting it so far down that her nose nearly touched the floor before bouncing back up.

Twilight was looking up past the camera. “An outlier,” she murmured.

“What’s that, Twilight?” asked Fluttershy.

“Your duck. He’s a statistical outlier, isn’t he? Would you say Bailey is remarkably more intelligent than most other ducks?”

“Well,” demurred Fluttershy. “I wouldn’t want to put anybody down.”

Twilight glanced at the camera. “Will you give your honest opinion if we promise to edit it out?”

Fluttershy nodded quietly.

The scene jumped slightly. Twilight’s belly was now before us as she reached upward. “Bailey! Will you come down and answer some questions?”

The duck flew down to Twilight’s bed. Twilight returned and sat down facing him. He lifted his wings halfway and kept the pose.

“Please be cooperative, Bailey,” said Fluttershy.

The duck folded his wings.

“Bailey?” asked Twilight. “Do you understand me?”

“Waack.”

“Please nod if you do.”

He stood looking confused. Twilight nodded her own head in illustration, and Bailey did the same.

“But is he just mimicking me,” wondered Twilight, “or does he really understand?”

Rainbow jumped off her bed. “Here, let me. Bailey? Can you turn around?” She spun around in place to show the duck.

Bailey stiffly turned around on his webbed feet.

“But again,” said Twilight. “Does he really understand, or is he just mimicking?”

Rainbow was undaunted. “Bailey, this time, _don’t_ turn around.”

Bailey just stood there.

“Okay, now _don’t_ not turn around.”

After a hesitation, the duck turned around in place.

“Now I want you to not, not, not, not, not, not turn around!” Rainbow grinned.

Bailey’s wingfeathers curled in at the ends, one by one, as if counting. Eventually, he turned once more in place.

“He _does_ understand!” exclaimed Twilight.

Bailey nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, Bailey,” said a slightly sad Fluttershy. Quiet inspirational music started to play, unheard by anyone present.

Twilight resettled her wings and scooted forward to face the duck from inches away. There was a heavy stillness. “Bailey?” asked the alicorn. “Would you like to legally be considered a person?”

Bailey beat his wings and nodded several times.

“Are you sure? It’s a big decision. You won’t be able to get away with everything you do now. You’ll be held responsible for your choices.”

Bailey was more subdued now, but he nodded.

Fluttershy let out a sob. “Bailey!”

Twilight looked over at her. “It’s what he wants, Fluttershy. It may even be why he made this trip in the first place.”

Fluttershy walked over. “I’d like to hug him… just one more time, if I may.”

“Fluttershy!” interjected Rainbow. “It’s not like he’s going away. You can still hug him after he’s a person.”

“I know,” murmured Fluttershy. “But it won’t be the same.”

Bailey turned to her and opened his wings for a hug. Fluttershy draped her forelegs over them and brought her head down to his. They hugged for a good ten seconds.

Then Fluttershy stepped back and wiped away her tears.

“Bailey of Ponyville,” said Twilight solemnly. “I now declare you a person and a citizen of Equestria, by royal decree, with all of the rights and responsibilities attached thereto.” She lowered her head until her horn touched Bailey’s forehead. There was no spark of magic, but Rainbow Dash started clomping the floor in applause.

“Woohoo! Go Bailey!”

“Go Bailey,” whispered Fluttershy. “Yay.”

Bailey lifted his head as high as he could and spread his wings in triumph. The inspirational music crescendoed and the scene fell dark.

* * *

Now it was quiet. All we could see was the edge of a mattress; all we could hear was Twilight muttering to herself in the mostly dark room. The camera rose to reveal her scribbling on a piece of parchment set among many others, lit by candlelight.

“Example. Turn to your left. Turn to your right. Do not turn to your right. Example. Turn and present your left leg. Turn and present your right wing. Turn and present your head.” She paused in her writing to take a deep breath. “Wow,” she reflected. “This really is what it’s all about.”

Then she happened to turn her head in the camera’s direction and her reverie turned to anger. “Spike! It’s _way_ past your bedtime!”

The camera switched off.

* * *

Blackness resolved into the inside of a closet. Rainbow Dash held the camera up to her own mischievous face. “It’s seven in the morning,” she whispered. “Fluttershy is _still_ out there talking to Bailey. Did they even _sleep?_ ”

She crept from the closet and covertly turned the camera to capture the pegasus and drake where they sat together on a blanket on the floor. Fluttershy was speaking softly and slowly.

“For that matter, is it true what Twilight said? Did you come all this way just because you hoped you could become a person?”

Bailey moved his head from side to side.

“But then why?” wondered Fluttershy. “Was it to see the sights?”

He shook his head.

“To be near the ocean?”

His shoulders tensed, but he shook his head.

“Was it to be where the action was?”

He shook his head.

“Was it to help other animals?”

Bailey nodded.

Fluttershy’s cheeks flushed. “It was?” She considered. “Did you want to help the other animals stand up for their rights?”

Bailey nodded and lifted one wing.

Fluttershy sat back. “So that’s why you were so upset by the crabs in the window? And by the orioles?”

He nodded.

“Oh, Bailey. I’m so sorry. I should have listened.”

He opened his wings again for a hug, and Fluttershy gave it readily.

When they parted, Fluttershy looked ashamed. “You must think so poorly of me.”

Bailey simply stood there, meeting her eyes. They stayed like that for a long time, and the scene went dark.

* * *

Daylight streamed through the long windows, illuminating the convention center and its busy occupants. Little clumps of ponies wandered by in conversation, some walking backwards or flying lazily overhead. A well-orchestrated chain of white rats scurried along the hallway, carrying batches of papers in their teeth and pursued by flustered ponies in lab coats. Small crowds formed around large individuals brazenly standing and chatting at junctions, congesting the flow of hoof traffic.

Everypony got out of the way when they saw Twilight Sparkle coming.

She trotted along with a bounce in her step and a scroll secured between her wings. The pace of motion then sped up to the point that background speech was squeaky and unintelligible, but slowed to normal speed once Twilight arrived at the guarded pair of double doors. This time there was no line.

Twilight nodded to one of the guards. “Good morning!” A cuckoo clock sprang and started to ‘cuckoo!’ in the background. “Good afternoon,” said Twilight to the other guard as she traipsed inside.

* * *

Once more, we found ourselves looking over the meeting room from an elevated position. Again staffers lingered off to the sides of the room that was still much too large for the few dozen delegates at the central table. The maroon unicorn Vellum Crux was nowhere to be seen.

Dame Claystone took her seat in a way that was somehow both hefty and graceful and rapped her hammer three times on the table. “Let the Sunday meeting of the Equestrian Oversight Society at the first Pan-Equestrian Animal Rights Conference commence.” Though it was a mouthful of a sentence, it sounded right coming from her.

“The first order of business,” said Dame Claystone, still with perfect composure. “At yesterday’s meeting, we saw fit to entrust to her Royal Highness Princess Twilight Sparkle the responsibility of preparing a recommendation vis-à-vis the testing of animals, whether on the scale of individuals or of species, for personhood rights.” She lifted her focus to the other end of the table. “Your Highness, have you anything for us?”

Twilight rose from the center of the table’s other end. “Yes,” she said. With a little spark of magenta, her scroll unfurled bouncily across the table.

“Gentle mares and stallions, since we adjourned yesterday I’ve given this issue quite a lot of thought. My full position argument is included at the head of this scroll, which I’ll be copying and sending to each chapter of the Society, but I’ll summarize for now. I had my friends speak with dozens of ponies here at the conference about what personhood means to them, and I went through their conversations as well as having several of my own. But in the end, it was a very special conversation that led to my key observation: The most reliable way we have of deciding whether someone is a person isn’t some abstract definition. It’s our own judgment.”

A beating of air could be heard, and several delegates looked down. Bailey emerged from under the table and settled down on top of it. A number of the delegates drew back in alarm; some of the nearby staffers rose at the ready.

“This is Bailey of Ponyville,” said Twilight. “Don’t worry, folks, he’s going to behave himself!”

The delegates returned to their spots, watching the duck warily.

“Last night,” Twilight explained, “I used my prerogative as princess to declare Bailey a full person in the eyes of Equestria. He has the right to bring petition against anyone, and is eligible to have petition brought against him. He may own deeded property, including land, and may run for office. He is also bound by all the laws of the realm.”

As Twilight paused, someone spoke up: “In that case, he shouldn’t be standing on the table!”

There was muted laughter. Bailey first glared at the speaker, then looked mortified and sat down, which only drew more laughter.

“Fair enough—but we don’t exactly have a place for a duck to stand!” pointed out Twilight. “Things have been changing since the Tremors and the portal. And they’re going to keep changing.” She paused to let this sink in.

“So to get this straight,” said Braeburn, “are you saying we’re supposed to be using our own judgment when it comes to who’s a person and who’s not? ‘Cause it seems to me two ponies might well disagree on a thing like that.”

Twilight smiled. “You’re absolutely right. There does have to be a central authority when it comes to that decision, and based on a letter I got from Celestia yesterday, it seems that until now she’s been willing to take on that authority herself. But we can’t keep making this decision species by species. Not all ducks are as smart as Bailey, and I suspect I wouldn’t have granted personhood to most. And if we’re going to decide on an individual level, the authority needs to be delegated. That means some kind of authority in each major community with the right to determine personhood. It means making regular and thorough reports to Canterlot to make sure this right isn’t abused or taken lightly. And it means a standardized method to be used by all authorities, with the ideal outcome that the same individual would be given the same answer whether they apply for personhood in Dodge Junction, Rainbow Falls, or Fillydelphia.”

“Which brings us to this, I take it,” said Penduluminus, tapping the scroll.

“Precisely. This document describes a framework for creating a set of questions to be asked of potential personhood applicants, to be translated if necessary into a language the applicant can understand. I say a framework because it’s important the questions can’t be the same every time—otherwise, a mere clever animal could be trained to give the correct responses. I decided that we needed a uniform subject on which any applicant could be tested. I got the idea from my friend Rainbow Dash—there isn’t much that all animals share, but everyone can turn around! So the framework describes how a testing board can create lists of instructions for an applicant to follow that involve physically turning its body in various ways. The instructions generated by this framework should be mostly straightforward, but must include variety, creativity and a certain level of abstraction.”

“Does this framework of yours have a name, your highness?” demanded the steel-colored pegasus.

“I considered naming it after Rainbow Dash, but then I decided to be straightforward and just call it the Turning Test,” said Twilight. “It’s my best attempt at creating a standardized, reliable test for whether someone is a person or a trained animal. Of course, it’s just a first draft, and there are still a number of problems to be worked out…”

“Such as?” asked Clearscape.

“Education,” pronounced the blue earth stallion.

“Exactly,” said Twilight. “And I’d like to mention that I like your proposal for a statement to be read by farmers to their stock. I think we’ll need to go farther as a country—identifying individuals and species with the potential to benefit materially from education and then mandating some amount of it as a basic right. The Turning Test won’t be complete without it. But that, I think, is a discussion for another conference.”

“Oh, I think some of us will find the time to argue about it right now,” said Jennylope Aster.

“Well, you’ll probably want to count me out, then,” said Twilight. “Because I was up pretty much all night working on this, and I’m about to collapse.”

Dame Claystone cleared her throat. “In that case, it would appear prudent for us to vote on Princess Twilight’s recommendation before moving on to other topics. As the proposal is as yet incomplete, this will be only a vote of confidence to be built upon, rather than a binding measure. Are there any final arguments?”

Hope Topaz stretched herself to her fullest height. “This so-called framework is complex, unnecessary, and a gold-engraved invitation for social trouble of all stripes.”

Bailey quacked.

“I rather think it strives for peace and order, helping us to find a subtle border which is not so easily defined, because it limns and dwells within the mind,” said the gnarled zebra.

Dame Claystone called the vote. Neither she nor Twilight took part. The count was twenty-six in favor of Twilight’s plan, nine against.

Twilight sighed deeply in relief. Amid scattered applause, Bailey clapped his wings over and over.

* * *

Now the only sound was gentle breathing in the background. Twilight lay asleep on her bed, wrapped tightly in blankets. The hotel room was clean again. Fluttershy sat nearby, dictating to Spike, while Bailey sat on the dragon’s head, watching as he wrote.

“Dear Princess Celestia,” Fluttershy nearly whispered. “Twilight is very cute when she’s sleeping.” She paused for thought while Spike’s quill scratched diligently down his scroll. “Then again, if anyone or anything _isn’t_ cute when it’s sleeping… well, I haven’t met them yet. Um…”

“Do you actually want me to put the ‘um’ in?” asked Spike.

“Um,” repeated Fluttershy, blushing. “We think that you’ll be pleased at what Twilight did this weekend. She promises to send you a full report soon. But just so that you know, she made a duck into a person. And she hopes you’re okay with that. If not… well, you can blame it on me. He was my pet. And now, he’s my friend.” She looked up at Bailey and took a long, slow breath. “Sincerely, Fluttershy.”

“You’re not gonna mention the bit with the married law professor and the duffel bag?” asked Spike.

Fluttershy squeed shyly. “I think that’s Twilight’s own personal business,” she murmured, standing up and walking away from the bed. “Besides,” she added, “she’ll see it on TV eventually anyway.”

The frame collapsed with a whoosh to a single dot.

* * *

At last it was time for the end song. Twilight, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy fluttered several feet off the ground outside the convention center, waving to a crowd of ponies assembled around the convention’s banner.

“So long, Baltimare!” said Rainbow Dash. “It was a blast!”

“Thanks for everything!” called Twilight.

Over the shot came Twilight’s singing voice, accompanied by horns and marimba:

“ _Life in Equestria shimmers!_  
 _Life in Equestria shines!_  
 _And I know for absolute certain_  
 _That everything… yes, everything…_  
 _Yes, everything is going to…_  
 _Be fine… it’s fine!”_

Twilight herself peeled back the corner of the image to peek at us from a pure lavender background. “Yes! Everything is going to be just fine!” The peeled screen flew back into place to reveal the Baltimare skyline, and on the final crash of drums it peeled away one last time into blackness.

And then the end credits.

* * *

======================================

* * *

“Wow,” said the pony on the couch beside me. “Things are changing fast back home.”

“Looks like it,” I agreed. “How do you feel about that?”

She sat staring in thought. “I don’t know. It’s probably for the best?”

As we sat watching the credits, a thought came to me. “It’s gonna feel weird if we start seeing Equestrian ducks and rabbits and things walking down the street, expecting to be treated like anyone else.”

Peach plonked her hoof into my side. “Was it weird when ponies started showing up?”

I looked at her, deadpan. “Hasn’t stopped being.”

A little frown crept onto Peach’s face. I couldn’t help it; I leaned over and gave her a cuddle.

“This is all you guys’ fault, anyway,” she said. “This whole personhood thing is a human idea.”

“I guess you’re used to having other intelligent beings all over the place. So it doesn’t mean as much to you. We humans? We were lonely.”

She cuddled back and looked into my eyes. “Really?”

“I don’t know. I can’t speak for everyone.”

“Your people got so excited when Equestria showed up that they went around pointing, saying ‘There’s a person! And there’s a person!’”

I spread my hands. “Isn’t it nice to have a fresh perspective?”

I saw her gathering her thoughts behind her eyes—breaking them down and gathering them again in a different way. Unable to decide whether to smile.

“Well, isn’t it?” I pressed.

She planted her front hooves on the couch between us and gazed straight into my eyes. “No, it’s not _nice_ , you sillyhead! It’s amazing. It’s everything.”

I swallowed. “I guess it a way it is,” I admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Originally, I had planned to have one chapter be an episode of Life in Equestria with Twilight Sparkle in which Rainbow was helping Twilight prepare Cloudsdale for the Equestria Games. But when I wound up writing about the World Cup in Chapter 10, I decided to have Ron and Peach just allude to that episode rather than actually depicting it. Some readers really wanted to see the TV show, though, so I decided that I would have to write a full episode eventually. And here it is. I'm actually glad I was forced to pick another subject for the episode, because I feel this subject is more substantial than the Equestria Games were ever going to be.
> 
> Baltimore, in case you weren't aware, is the site of BronyCon since it moved from New York in 2013. I attended last summer and drew from my experience there in depicting its sister city in Equestria.
> 
> The districts represented by the EOS delegates in this chapter are all drawn from the official map of Equestria used by the showrunners, which was seen during the goof-off in Pinkie Pride and was canonized at the end of Season 4's finale. I found a version that expands on that map to depict another continent on which it's implied the events of Generation 1 took place, and that's what I'm using for this story. George was originally from that continent. I'm assuming the map is accurate but incomplete and, as it says, not drawn to scale.
> 
> So it turns out that zebras all speak in rhyme, but they don't all use the same meter. Zecora speaks loosely in iambic tetrameter, whereas the guy in this chapter prefers iambic pentameter.
> 
> What if Rainbow Dash or Spike had interviewed you about what makes a person a person? What would you have replied?


	14. Princesses

I WAS LUCKY enough not to be scheduled on the following Thursday, so I left plenty early for Turtlewood Coffee and had good luck with the bus and train. I showed up around eleven, leaving plenty of time before I could expect Peach, and later Meg, to arrive. Just as well. I ordered an herbal tea to calm my nerves and settled in with my laptop.

First I went to the news sites. Then my e-mail. Then, with excitement brewing, I went to PeachOnEarth.com and found a new entry, compete with pictures of three women I’d never seen before. Well, I told myself, this should be interesting.

* * *

[ Posted: 7/5/18 by Peach ] 

Let’s talk about princesses.

This is Crown Princess Masako, from Japan, which is a small but important island country off the coast of the biggest continent on Earth. She’s married to the son of the emperor. He had to ask her to marry him three times before she said yes, because she wanted to be a diplomat instead of a princess. After they did get married, she had trouble having a child. She even had a miscarriage. They gave her treatments, they gave her drugs, everything her nation had to offer. Eventually she had a healthy daughter. But Japan doesn’t want another princess. They want a prince. Because only a male child can be heir to the throne, and Masako never had a son. They say she was so distraught about it that she isolated herself and maybe even had a nervous breakdown. She hardly ever comes out in public anymore. Once she wanted to be a diplomat, connecting people and lands, and now she just hides herself away.

This is Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden. She had an eating disorder called anorexia nervosa earlier in her life (think the opposite of Pinkie Pie) and had to hide it for a long time in case the public found out. She didn’t get to go to the school she wanted to because of it—she had to go study in a whole different continent. She also has trouble recognizing people’s faces, even people she knows well. As far as I can tell, she’s the only female heir apparent to a country on the entire Earth. There are other female heirs to countries, but they could all get knocked down in line if their parents had a son. Sweden is one of the few Terran monarchies that doesn’t give first dibs to boys over girls. And they only stopped doing that less than forty years ago.

This is Princess Kalina of Bulgaria. She seems like a cool lady. She speaks six languages and doesn’t eat meat, like most humans do. You know how there’s a legend about Celestia shaving herself bald a few hundred years ago? Humans mainly only have hair on their heads (and don’t call them manes!), but Kalina shaved hers off once because she lost a bet. Another time she colored her hair bright orange, which is just on the edge of normal human hair colors. So that’s cool, right? But both those times, reporters and gossip-mongers gave her a hard time about it. It’s like she didn’t do anything else for them to have a scandal about, so they had a hair scandal. In fact, out of the dozens of human princesses, I haven’t found a single one that hasn’t had some sort of scandal or other. And frankly, a lot of them seem pretty unfair.

What’s my point? It’s that humans don’t hold their princesses in high esteem. They pretend to, but when it comes down to it, they don’t really. They hold them to high  standards , which is not in any way the same thing.

But it makes sense when you realize that princesses aren’t nearly as important over here as they are back in Equestria. First off, ‘Queen’ is the title for a regnant female monarch here, not ‘Princess’. Second, it’s men who’ve historically held the power, not women. But those are really just curiosities. The more important difference is that most of Earth’s countries have shifted from absolute rule to something more democratic—rule by the people. Earth used to have over a hundred monarchies. Now it’s down to something like thirty. And in most of those, the monarch doesn’t have the real power anymore—the country just keeps them around for tradition, or for kicks and giggles. They do things like make speeches, visit other countries, wave to crowds and cut ribbons at ceremonies. Earth treats its princesses more like pets than like people to be reckoned with.

And make no mistake, they’re proud of that. This country I’m in, America, was kind of the first big one to switch over to rule by the people. And just last night, they celebrated it big time. They have a company called Macy’s here that does parades and fireworks, and I’ll tell you, their fireworks are just as impressive as ours… until you remember that they do them entirely without magic, and then they’re far  more impressive. And human crowds, in my opinion, are more exciting than pony crowds are. That may not be entirely a plus—I’m just saying.

I wonder if humans think we’re old-fashioned or throwbacks because we have princesses who actually  do things. It seems the consensus of Earth is that princesses are pretty much obsolete. What do you think? Tell me in the comments.

Poem of the Day: Princessness

'Princess’ means principal, first among females, prime among people and wellspring of power.   
Firstness is bestness, for first choice is best choice. Why not take the sweet choice instead of the sour?

Or is it  not  bestness? Is firstness just roughness? A first draft is weaker than all that come later.   
Is ‘first among females’ a thing to be envied? Or is it a template for something much greater?

Firstness is worstness when change means improvement.   
Does change mean improvement? Or is it just movement?

235 COMMENTS

* * *

That… was a lot of comments.

Some of them were complimenting her on the poem. Some were complaining about her cherry-picking only negative things out of the princesses’ lives, when there was so much positive that could have been said. Most were honestly trying to answer the question of whether or not princesses were obsolete, and those were the most interesting. A whole debate with arguments and sub-arguments had developed, and while it didn’t reach any conclusions, one thing was very clear—Peach’s blog had really taken off.

I was proud, and I was scared, and I was happy for her. Why was I scared? I don’t think I could have said, exactly, except that I’d learned that big things can bring trouble.

Ponies were starting to trickle in for the lunchtime meet-up. Some went around the corner to where the couches were, but a couple ordered something and sat down at a table where I could see them. And again, I remembered that ponies have a scent. It was like the place was waking up. I felt happier without trying.

Still just eleven thirty. I bought a croissant and picked up a newspaper. I’d already seen most of the news I cared about online, but a column caught my eye. It mentioned the last episode of _Life in Equestria_ that I’d watched together with Peach. “Earth and Equestria: Joining Together, or Breaking Apart?” read the headline. I started reading near the beginning.

* * *

“…possibility is reminiscent of the expansion fever that overtook America in the 1860’s and 70’s, resulting in an overhunting of bison so massive that the formerly dominant grassland species was driven to the brink of extinction. When new frontiers open up, the potential for opportunity is often so great that social and environmental dangers are altogether overshadowed and overlooked in the rush to capitalize.

“Thus far, Equestrian authorities have been more mindful of such concerns than our own have been, restricting access to Fimland to only essential visitors and restricting imports likewise. All parties, however, have been responsibly cautious with regard to obvious dangers such as disease, terrorism, and magical contamination. This speaks well of our ability to learn from the tragedies of history.

“However, very little has been said of another possible tragedy: the loss of the metaphysical fabric that links our worlds together. The very fact that the nature of this connection is hard to measure and hard to fathom makes it all the more vulnerable. Yet we must take measures to understand it, lest we wake up one day to find that, like the bison of the Great Plains, it has vanished practically overnight.

“The primary connection, as everyone knows, was the Canadian-American television program  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic , itself a continuation of a previously dormant franchise. Presently, if new episodes of that show were to be made, they would not reflect Equestrian reality; experiments with writer Cindy Morrow have apparently confirmed this. But innumerable connections between our world and theirs continue to be apparent. Their history is replete with incidents that resemble softer, cleaned-up versions of events in our own. Their dominant language is practically identical to English, widely considered the most dominant language on Earth, and yet the etymology of their words is almost completely different. The fact that their language has arrived by an entirely  different history of lexical and phonetic changes to be almost exactly the same as ours is an astronomically unlikely and even beautiful coincidence—except that, of course, it is no coincidence that the magical events surrounding their Tragedy of the God-Tremor opened a portal to  our world and not some theoretical other. That particular connection was opened  because of the similarities between our worlds. But if such coincidences were to continue, we could not ascribe them to this same cause. Four hundred years ago, English and Equestrian were significantly different from one another, and it seems logical to assume they will be different two hundred years hence. Now that we are aware of each others’ cultures, there is no longer room for coincidence to operate.

“Yet new coincidences do continue to crop up, proving that some kind of metaphysical connection remains between our worlds. We were not simply plucked from a multiverse of worlds that Celestia’s portal might have chosen as the one that happened to be the most similar at that moment; rather, some kind of link is in operation that binds us even now. The latest piece of evidence for this fact was on display this week in the most recent episode of  Life in Equestria with Twilight Sparkle , an Equestrian program broadcast over most of the major Earth networks. The show’s title character conceived of a protocol for establishing the personhood of candidate animals, which she named the Turning Test. Twilight Sparkle, despite being a highly educated individual, was apparently not familiar with the Turing Test, a protocol proposed in 1950 by the British mathematician, cryptanalyst and computer scientist Alan Turing for establishing the ability of artificial intelligences to mimic the behavior of thinking beings, if not actually to think themselves. If she were, chances are she would have chosen a less similar-sounding name for her own invention.

“Bearing this in mind, consider how many other coincidental puns or other similarities to our own works Princess Twilight Sparkle might conceive of were she  not so well read! Now consider the relationship between the two worlds on a broader scale and we arrive at the following thesis: The more we know of each other’s cultures—and in particular, the more Equestrians know of ours—the fewer coincidences of this nature will crop up. Any Terran term that acquires household usage in Equestria will not see a syntactically similar term coined for some similar Equestrian concept. Our inventions may spread to Equestria through cultural osmosis; our sports may be played there, our holidays may be observed; but any that become  known will not be echoed through parallel development there just as so many have been in the past. Equestrian ‘echoing’ of Terran culture seems to be the primary material of the fabric that joins us, yet this echoing has been happening less and less the more they know about us. No phenomenon like this ‘echo’ has ever been observed before, short of (arguably) some properties of quantum entanglement, and yet no one seems to inclined to consider its preservation.

“It may seem perverse to suggest stifling the flow of information to Equestria. It is natural for friendly cultures to share information about themselves, as doing so typically costs nothing and gains much. Yet it is surely worth considering the possibility that in this one, singular case, such an ethic should be examined, just in case the hidden cost turns out be much greater and more tragic than anyone can currently imagine.”

* * *

The sound of hooves on tile jerked my attention from the paper up to the pony standing before me.

“Hi, Sparky,” I said.

“Hello, Pepper,” said Peach.

I folded the newspaper, almost ashamed of the column I’d been reading and not wanting Peach to see it. “I read your blog earlier,” I told her.

“What did you think?”

“It was definitely something to think about. But I’m surprised you only mentioned the fireworks at the end. I’d been expecting you to write a whole entry on your night out.” I’d known Kellydell and Seaswell had invited Peach out to the Macy’s fireworks extravaganza, and I’d been looking forward to her reaction.

“I still might. We did have a great time.”

“So, why princesses, then?”

Peach winked. “I had my reasons. Laying the groundwork. Setting the scene. How about you? Did you do anything fun for Independence Night?”

Peach had a way with words that made her irresistibly cute. Yet, in the shadow of the column, I wondered how much of that cuteness would be lost, the more fluent with American culture and language she became.

“We don’t call it Independence Night,” I told her. “It’s Independence Day, or just the fourth of July. As it happens, my friend Barrett had a barbecue. I went over and had a great time, hung out with with some people I hadn’t seen in a long time, met a few new ones. It was just what I needed to get out of the slump I was in.”

A big grin spread over Peach’s face, all the way to her perked ears. “Well, thank the stars for holidays!”

“Yeah, I guess so!’

“Weird how sometimes people need a calendar to tell them to do what’s good for them anyway.”

“Is it like that on the other side?” I asked.

“Oh, absolutely. We Equestrians love our holidays. I think my favorite is Hearth’s Warming. Come to think of it, that’s kind of our own birth of the country day. Except it’s not about independence. At all. Really, it’s kind of the opposite.”

“Dependence Day,” I suggested.

“Yeah Dependence Day. Funny how that works. Your holiday about the birth of your country is about being free and making your own way, and ours is about coming together in the cold and realizing we all depend on each other to survive.”

I took that in. “Really, Hearth’s Warming corresponds to Christmas, though.”

“Oh yeah! Now I remember.”

I considered dissecting the meaning of Christmas, but decided we weren’t ready to have a conversation about religion yet. “So, you never really said why you blogged about princesses. What were you laying the groundwork for?”

Peach sat down, which meant putting both her seat and front hooves on the seat of the chair, and smiled mischievously. “Okay, guessing time. Kellydell gave me something last night when we went out for fireworks. What. Do you think. It was?”

I was at a loss, though Peach’s excitement was contagious. “Um… more clothes?”

“No, silly! She wouldn’t do that unless we went shopping together. That’s half the fun!”

“Well then…” I hemmed.

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s made of paper.”

“…An origami crane? No, wait. The title to something? Peach, did she give you a car?!”

She stared at me before bursting out laughing. “No! A car would be worth thousands of dollars! This was only worth hundreds of dollars.”

“Wow, really?”

Her expression went smug. “Now that I’ve got your expectations all puffed up, I’ll tell you. She got me a VIP ticket plus guest to see Princess Cadance’s address at Radio City!”

I suddenly had a weird mixed feeling in my stomach, but it was mostly good. “Wow! That’s wonderful, Sparky.”

“It is! I’ve never even _seen_ a princess before in real life. And now maybe I’ll be able to meet one!”

“Kellydell must really like you.”

“She says I’m adorable.”

“Well, I can’t say she’s wrong. A VIP ticket?”

“She told the ticket office I was one of the most prominent pony bloggers on Earth. Which I guess is true! There isn’t a whole lot of competition, but this last week I got links from PonyPony and The Canterlot Portal, and my view count skyrocketed. I’m getting like four thousand visits a day!”

“Wow, Peach! That’s impressive. I wonder if it’ll last.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been posting on other pony blogs and forums, especially the ones about ponies here on Earth. And I’m gonna make sure to keep putting up content. I took today off work, so I’m planning to write a few more posts and some poems later today.”

My weird feeling was getting tinglier. “I’m really proud of you, Peach.”

“It might not last. I realize that. But I owe you a lot for your help.”

“I think we should celebrate. How about a slice of cheesecake?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Meg to show up?”

Somehow I wasn’t really nervous about Meg anymore. “We’ll wait to get lunch. But since we’re here now, we can have dessert first.”

Peach put a hoof to mouth to cover her smile. “Let’s do it.”

So we each got cheesecake. We sat at tables near the wall, watching the occasional customer wander in or order something at the counter. I could tell Peach wanted to go introduce herself to the ponies who passed by, but she held off. Because she was with me. I felt touched.

“So do you want to go?” she asked.

“Go already? But what about Meg?

“No! I mean, go to Radio City with me! I have a guest ticket!”

My eyes widened. “Go to Radio City? You’re inviting _me_ to see Princess Cadance with you?”

“Of course!”

I hesitated a moment before asking, “You’re sure you don’t want to go with George?”

It was her turn to hesitate. “He’s going to be working at the Metropolitan that day.”

“So you asked him first.”

“I didn’t want to say so. Yes, I asked him first. But that’s only ‘cause Cadance really is, you know, his princess.”

“He’s not a crystal pony.”

“You know what I mean. I just thought he’d appreciate it more than you would.”

I felt a little emotional dagger at that, but I decided not to make a thing out of it. “You’re probably right. He’s been working on that exhibit on love through the ages, and he likes meeting famous people. But you know what? I’ll appreciate it too. I will go.”

“Great!” She set one hind hoof on the tabletop and hugged me over our cheesecakes.

“So where is Radio City?” Peach asked once we were seated again. “Is it a suburb of New York?”

“Uh, no, it’s part of Rockefeller Center. Here in Manhattan.”

“Oh! Then it should be easy to—” She leaned suddenly to one side and peered past me. “Second Sight!”

I turned around. There was a dusky yellow pony walking by, a unicorn mare with a brown vest and… goggles. No, just really big glasses. Or _were_ they goggles? Her cutie mark was an eye with arrows heading out left and right from it, and her mane and tail were bright purple.

“Peach Spark.” The dusky yellow mare adjusted her path toward us without missing a step. “And Ronald Pfeffer. A pleasure to meet you at last.”

“Um.” I held out my hand, and she plopped her hoof in it and shook it. “Did you know I was going to be here?”

“On some level.” Her face formed a tiny, eerie smile. “But I didn’t realize it until I saw you.”

“Pepper, this is Second Sight,” said Peach. “If you’re wondering how she knew your name, it’s magic.”

“It was more logical inference than magic,” said Second Sight. “You haven’t mentioned any other human friends.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said.

“You’re not actually,” said Second Sight, “but I ascribe that to initial confusion. It happens a lot.”

“Um…”

“It’s all right, Pepper. She’s just like this.”

I took a deep breath. “Well, then. I… remember the note you helped write for me. And the drawing! It was really something. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome! I enjoy collaborative art. It’s full of rare surprises.”

“We do should something else like that,” suggested Peach.

“Peach tells me that you enjoyed playing with my magnetics kit,” Second Sight said with a hint of extra meaning. “I can see she wasn’t mistaken.”

I swallowed. “Are you reading my mind?”

“No. I’m just looking at it.”

“Wow. That’s… totally not creepy.”

Second Sight inclined her head to Peach. “Sarcasm,” she murmured.

“Yeah I know,” said Peach. “You know, telling people what they’re feeling isn’t really polite, Sighty. You can freak them out that way.”

“True. I once tried restraining myself from making any observation informed by my magical powers. I lasted four days before I decided the strain on my faculties was too great. It isn’t always easy for me to differentiate what I know because of my special talent from what I know from mere observation and cogitation.”

I gave Peach an urgent look as if to ask whether there was any way out of this conversation.

“Well, maybe you could just try cutting down on the really blatant stuff,” Peach suggested. “Don’t make a rule out of it, just a guideline.”

“I know that you prefer guidelines to rules,” said Second Sight. “I personally find them more cumbersome. But in any case, we’re making Mr. Pfeffer uncomfortable. I’ll retire to the nook and you can join me later if you desire.”

“Right, sure,” said Peach.

“Uh, see you later,” I managed. Second Sight nodded as she walked away.

“You get used to her,” Peach told me once she was out of earshot.

“That was so strange. Is her power to know what everyone around her is feeling?”

“Yeah, basically. If you think about something really hard, she can tell. She also knows where living things are.”

“So she can track people?”

“I think she could track one person in an empty building, but not through a crowd. But she’s always working on strengthening her own powers.”

“So that she can get even more creepy?”

Peach grimaced. “Well, you can’t blame someone for trying to improve themselves.”

I went back to my cheesecake. “Assuming that seeing better into other people’s heads is an improvement.”

Peach joined me and took a bite. “When I first met her, she saw that I was confused about what I was doing here. We went for a long walk and she helped me sort things out. That was what led to me thinking of starting a blog in the first place.”

Huh! Well, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s a kind person, even if she comes off like a freak. She’s trying to talk me into quitting my job and coming to work at her lab.”

“Is it actually her lab? As in, she owns it?”

“Oh, no, it’s human-run. But she loves her work and thinks they’d hire me if I applied.”

“Are you tempted?”

“A little! But I feel like I should at least stick with ThuneTec until I’ve got my money in order. I like Second Sight, but I’m not ready to trust her with that big a decision. You know what I mean?”

I did. We talked for a while about trust, and about how to decide when it’s time for a new job, and about our respective financial situations. We’d just finished off the last of the cheesecake when…

The clearing of a delicate throat, in a tone that was more like a word than a bodily function.

I looked over and there she was. In a dress. Who wears a dress to a coffeeshop? Standing nervously, but not hanging back. Wispy long brown hair with waves there, and there. A pair of bags in one hand. Why did she need _two_ bags? I still liked the way her neckline looked, and that hollow spot in her throat.

“Hi, Meg,” I said.

“It’s good to see you two again,” she said. She cleared her throat again, this time because she needed it.

“Likewise!” said Peach.

Meg glanced around the main room. “I see a couple of ponies are here. Will more show up later?”

“They’re gathered around the corner,” Peach explained. “We call it the nook. Want to go see, or talk a little first?”

“Will they accept me?”

“Who knows! I accept you.”

Meg held her bags in both hands in front of herself. “Do you?” she asked quietly.

“Sure! You rode me hard and now I’m tamed.”

“Is that what it takes?” I murmured across the table.

Meg blushed. “I don’t believe that for a moment. Is there anything I should know before I go and talk to them?” I was curious about that, too.

“Well,” said Peach, “just keep in mind that this is one of the only places we get to spend time with just other ponies. So if it seems like they want their privacy, you should probably respect it.”

Meg looked saddened by that, but nodded. “I’m ready.”

She didn’t seem interested in talking to me at all. I’d actually started to wonder if she was trying to court Peach, but now it looked like she was more interested in meeting _other_ ponies. I exchanged a glance with Peach as we got up, but our glances weren’t the same. Mine was disappointed, but she was just puzzled.

I packed up my laptop and we strolled around the corner. The faint sweet scent got stronger. When we’d come to Turtlewood before, it had been at a random time, and we’d met just three other ponies. This, though, was the weekly meet-up. There was a babble of conversation as we rounded the corner into the nook, mixed with the sound of magic quietly shimmering as unicorns lifted glasses and napkins. The two faux-leather sofas were full of ponies. I counted nine, and everyone was there. George was the first to notice me—he looked startled in my direction for a moment, then gave a cordial nod. Second Sight didn’t look over. Kellydell was in the middle of saying something to a hefty beige mare when Seaswell stroked her back with his wing and gestured toward us.

“Hi everyone!” greeted Peach.

We were caught in a mess of hellos and introductions. Meg stood well back, clutching her bags and waiting to be addressed.

“Did you come with Peach?” asked Kellydell eventually.

“Yes. I’m Meg Dougherty.” She shook Kellydell’s hoof, and a few more hooves, before explaining why she was there. “I’ve always been a fan of ponies,” she told everyone nervously. “From before, I mean.”

“From before we were real?” joshed the big beige earth mare whose cutie mark was a trio of orange leaves.

Meg shook her head tightly. “From before everyone liked them.”

I could tell the group was confused. _I_ was confused. But Meg proceeded to pull open the larger of her two bags and dump the contents on the table.

It was a mass of pastel plastic. Pony figurines. And accessories.

Generation one.

The ponies hushed up for just a second, then erupted in three or four babbled conversations among themselves. They crowded forward to take a look.

“This is Love Petal,” said Meg, setting upright a white figure with pink hair and pale pink patterns covering her body. “She was the first pony I got, and she’s always been my favorite. She tends to be the heroine of my stories.”

“Is she covered in tattoos?” someone asked.

“That’s just the way she is. She’s one of the Flower Fantasy Ponies. They were all like that. They were still making them when I was little, but then they stopped for a while, so I treasured the ones I had.”

The figure lifted off the table in a swirl of someone’s white magic, but Meg took it back and set out another one, light green with a pink mane and purple tail. “This is Seabreeze. She means a lot to me because I got her through mail order. I had to save up Horseshoe Points and keep all my mother’s receipts until I had enough. And then she came.”

“They mailed that to you?” asked a light blue earth mare whose cutie mark was a row of collapsing dominoes.

“She was the only one of the new ponies we could get, at first,” Meg explained. “They said she came from a faraway Spanish garden and loved to go walking on the beach.”

“What’s Spanish?” someone asked.

“That’s the place over the pond, where everybody wears boots,” explained George.

“Why are her mane and her tail different colors?” asked someone else.

“You earned her,” said Seaswell, unfurling his wings and stepping up. “Way to go!”

“There aren’t very many green ponies,” Meg explained, as the ponies started to handle the pony toys. “They said that green doesn’t sell.”

“Green doesn’t sell?” objected Kellydell incredulously. “What does that mean?”

Meg looked afraid. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, or anyone else who’s green. I just mean the people who made the toys decided that little girls didn’t want to buy the green ones. So they didn’t make very many, and that’s the other reason why Seabreeze is precious to me.”

Kellydell and Seaswell looked at each other for a long moment.

I couldn’t tell whether they were having an existential moment or sharing their disgust, but I wanted to laugh. Instead, I followed an impulse and started quietly singing “It’s Not Easy Being Green.” Eventually, everyone was quietly listening to me sing, and I gathered my courage and powered through. On the line, “But green’s the color of spring,” I was delighted to hear Meg join in.

There was some polite clomping on the floor, but it was mixed with confusion. “But… you’re not green,” a little white unicorn stallion pointed out hesitantly, as if I really might be and he just didn’t see it.

“It’s a song Kermit the Frog sang,” I explained.

“A frog sang it, you say?” George seemed intrigued. “Blimey, but I’d like to see that.”

“Not a real frog,” Meg hastened to explain. “A puppet. A famous fake frog.”

A lavender pegasus mare stepped up and tapped the table. “Is that anything like all these fake ponies?”

Meg stood her pony figurines up, one by one. “Something like it. Most of these ponies don’t really have stories, but some do. She held up a gold earth pony with pink hair and flowers on her rump. “This is Posey. She was in _My Little Pony 'n Friends_. She was the gardener of Paradise Estate and caretaker to the foals.”

“She looks sort of like Fluttershy,” pointed out the lavender pegasus.

“She’s the precursor to Fluttershy,” said Second Sight, “but she wasn’t the same.”

“What does that mean, the precursor?” asked Kellydell.

“She came before her,” said Meg. “Lauren Faust based Fluttershy on her. But yes, Posey was her own pony. Fluttershy loves animals… and Posey loved flowers.” She peered lovingly at her toy. “And Posey was awkward… but not shy.”

Peach brushed her tail against my leg. “This is so weird,” she whispered to me.

“I wonder if I have a precursor,” wondered Seaswell.

“I don’t think anyone in this room had a precursor,” rejoined Kellydell, “because none of us were in the show! No one ever dreamed up our fictional counterparts.”

“I’m afraid I can’t speak to that,” said Meg. “But I just wanted to tell you about some of my favorites.” There was uncertain shuffling. “If anypony would like to know more, I’d be glad to share.”

The beige earth pony stepped up. “But why did you bring these here?”

“I thought… maybe some of you would like to play,” said Meg.

“Play? Play what?”

“Play ponies,” answered Second Sight.

“Play… ponies?” repeated Kellydell.

“I think she means play with the dolls,” said the little white unicorn, “and pretend to be whoever they are.”

There was an awkward silence. Meg started to gather up her toys stiffly back into her bag. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This was a foolish idea.”

“I’ll play,” said George Harrison.

Meg looked sharply at him. “You will?” Her voice was more doubtful than relieved.

“Why not?” He ambled up and looked over the figures. “Who’s this one, then?” he asked.

“That’s Gusty,” said Meg. “She knows how to call the wind.”

“Suits me,” said George.

“You can’t be Gusty!” objected the lavender unicorn. “She’s a girl!”

“They were all girls back then,” said Meg quietly. She paused. “But come to think of it, I think the same actress did the voice of Bart Simpson. And he was a boy. So I think you’re okay.”

This led to more questions, but the door was opened. Peach agreed to play, and so did I. Second Sight, in her usual weird way, said that she didn’t think she could safely play, but that she would watch. Eventually half the group was having a conversation on the sofas, led by Kellydell, and half of us were at the tables, playing ponies.

This had turned out to be a date after all. A play date.

“I call Princess Luna,” said the light blue earth mare with the domino cutie mark.

Meg shook her head sadly. “I don’t have one of her. I don’t have any toys of real ponies. It didn’t seem respectful.”

“Then I’ll take whoever their princess was.”

“They didn’t have any princesses. Not the ones in the shows, anyway.” She passed over a primrose figure with blue hair and an inset gem for a cutie mark. “Or rather, there was a castle full of princesses, but they lived apart from everyone else and didn’t seem to rule anyone.”

The blue mare didn’t seem pleased. “Then who was in charge?”

“No one was in charge,” said Meg softly. “Some were more like leaders than others, but they made decisions as a team.”

“That doesn’t sound very realistic.”

“More than you know,” said George. “That’s how they did it in the old country, where I’m from. Still do. Mind, there’s prefects, so they’re not utterly leaderless, but a prefect’s only got as much power as the respect she wields.”

“Are these ponies from the old country?” asked Peach, gesturing to the whole tableful.

“The old ones are, yes. I think so, anyway,” answered Meg.

“The older pony shows aren’t true accounts,” said George. “There never was a Gusty, or a Posey. But they’re not all _that_ different from how things used to be. Ponies used to live without rulers. It was a different time. Enemies around every corner, and little bands struggling to make life livable.”

“And without human friends to help them out,” said Meg.

The beige mare laughed heartily. “Of course not! They threw that in from sheer ego. Can’t have a kids’ show without some kids in it, right?”

“They took them out,” said Meg. “For the other shows.”

“So I can’t play a princess?” asked the blue mare.

“You can if you really want to,” said Meg. “But don’t be surprised if the rest of us don’t do what you say.”

Peach picked up a figure. “Here’s another green one. Is her cutie mark really a bunch of milkshakes?”

“Yes, it is,” said Meg. “That’s Fizzy. She’s always talking, but she hardly knows up from down. She has magic over bubbles.”  
Peach grinned a silly grin. “I’ll take her. Let’s do this thing. What’s our story?”

I looked around, wanting to help. I grabbed a plastic sandwich container without a sandwich in it and put it on the edge of the table, flapping its top half like a giant monster. “The Eaters have come,” I told everyone. “They’re done eating whatever was in the next valley, and now they’re hungry for more.”

“Perfect!” laughed Meg, giving me a little happy glance. She picked up a pink pegasus with multicolored hair. “I’m Whizzer. I’m the fastest flier around, and I’m the fastest talker, too! If anyone can fight the Eaters, it’s probably me!”

“Let’s not ignore the power of the wind,” said George, pushing his pony forward. “Seems to me those critters are flimsy and none too heavy. Couldn’t I just blow them away?”

“Maybe you can,” I said. “But they’ll just keep coming back!” I slowly advanced my plastic container and used it to devour one of the miscellaneous ponies lying on the table.

“Oh, no you don’t!” shouted the blue earth mare, wresting the devoured pony out and fighting back. “I won’t go lying down!”

And so we played. For a good hour. It was interesting to see Meg as the loquacious Whizzer. She didn’t talk any louder than normal, but she did talk a lot more. Peach got to let loose her scatterbrained side as Fizzy, then switched from sodas to ice cream when she took on Lickety-Split. I played the villains for a while, then picked a pony of my own as the story changed. Every so often, it occurred to me just how strange a situation I was in. Playing toy pastel ponies with the real things around me. A part of my mind asked whether this wasn’t pointless. Why play a childish game when I had a room full of genuine talking ponies around me? I could strike up a conversation and try to get to know them, the way I’d gotten to know Peach. It would be so much less silly.

But this felt right, somehow, and it was what we wanted to do—three earth ponies, a unicorn, a girl and me. Meanwhile, the rest chatted on the sofas and eventually left to go about their lives here on Earth.

“Tzzt! Buttons winks out and goes back to Paradise Estate,” said Meg.

“Wait, Buttons can wink out, too?!” protested the sky blue earth mare, now playing one of the villains.

“All the unicorns can wink in and out,” said Meg.

“Bullcakes!” said Peach. “Teleportation is advanced stuff! I think only one unicorn in eleven can do it.”

“They could do more, back in the old days,” said George, still playing Gusty. “Winking is easy—just turn your mind a certain way, and _pammf!_ ” He zipped his figure across the table.

“Are you lecturing me about magic?” Peach countered.

“I’m just telling. An earth pony like you, Lickety-Split, could never be capable of _really_ understanding magic.”

Peach was discombobulated at first. Then, fired up, she leaned across the table. “Try me!”

“Well, I know taste is your favorite sense,” said George. “Magic is like a sixth sense. You feel it in your horn, but it’s all through your body as well. It’s like waking up on a summer morning and remembering you slept out of doors.”

“No it’s not!” laughed Peach.

George shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t expect an earth pony who spends her days making ice cream sundaes to understand.”

Peach picked up the pile of unused ponies with her magic and dropped them abruptly, scattering them. “How’s that for magic?”

The big beige mare laughed. “Are we playing, or are we squabbling?”

Meg smiled thinly. “I think maybe that’s enough,” she suggested. “We’ve had our fun, and it was a really good time. But it’s coming up on one, and I should be going.”

“Oh alicorns, I was due back at work twenty minutes ago,” said the beige mare. “Lunch break can only stretch so far. Nice to meet you, Meg… come again sometime, won’t you?”

Meg drew a quiet, swift breath. “I think I will.”

“We’re done?” asked the blue mare. “I didn’t get to tear Paradise Estate to the ground!”

“You can do that next time,” said Meg. “Thank you for playing.”

Second Sight spoke up for the first time since the game began. “Everyone had a good time, on balance. Thank you for bringing these toys, Meg. It was collaborative.”

Meg raised an eyebrow at her, but Second Sight just walked away.

I helped Meg put her toys away as the remaining ponies dispersed. “So.”

“So,” she said. “Thanks for introducing me, Ron.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to meet up somewhere else sometime?”

She paused and took a long, hard look at me, the only good look she’d ever given me. She let a breath in and out.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” she eventually said.

I nodded. “That’s fine,” I said, as if it really were. “I figured.”

We finished cleaning up. Meg said a few words to Peach in private on her way out.

George ambled up to me. “Shot you down, did she? I’m sorry, mate.”

I wasn’t as annoyed with him as I felt I ought to be. “It’s okay.’

“I figured she was just using you as an excuse to meet us. I’m used to it by now. Plenty of human folk just can’t get their minds around us. Most keep their distance and try to forget we exist, but a good few stumble over their own toes trying to say hello. I try to be kind to both sorts.”

“What about me?” I asked.

“Oh, you’re not either kind, Sergeant. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Being nice to you’s easy.”

I looked George in the eyes. Soft brown eyes that sometimes seemed bright, sometimes dark. “I never know whether to take you seriously,” I told him.

“Serious or not, I usually mean what I say,” he replied.

Peach stepped up, interrupting. “Like when you told me I could never understand magic?”

“Well, in that case, I was just playing around, Spark. No hard feelings? It felt nice to have a horn on my head for once.”

Peach smiled slowly. “What you said about magic. You just made that up?”

George shrugged. “A colt’s got to have fantasies.”

“No hard feelings, then. I like the way you think. Even if I have trouble telling when to take you seriously, too.”

George sighed. “I’ll take it. May I buy you a cup of something to make it up, Miss Peaches?”

Peach looked embarrassedly at me. “Pepper’s right here. Doesn’t he get to buy me something?”

“Of course he does. Does that mean you’re once more amenable to being courted, Miss Peaches?”

Peach looked between the two of us. “We’re just friends,” she said decisively. “The three of us. No one is courting anyone. Because, George, if my family had heard you even joking about knowing more about magic than me.” She shook her head.

I actually felt sorry for George in that moment.

We got a round of coffees, everyone paying for themselves. George took his with honey. I took cream. Peach put cinnamon in hers.

While Peach was returning the mugs, George spoke softly to me. “So you’re going to see Princess Cadance with her?”

I nodded. “She told me she asked you first.”

“She did. I wish I could go.” He looked wistfully into the air. “But seeing as I can’t… good luck.”

“Good luck?”

He faced me. “That mare’s a prisoner to her conscience. I’d like to see her freed. If it can’t be me, it should be you. So. Good luck.” He raised his hoof for a shake, and I bumped it with my fist. He seemed satisfied with that.

Peach returned. “We’re still on for the Metropolitan next Wednesday, right?” she asked George.

“Right as rain. It’ll be good to show a lady where I’ve been spending my influence these past few weeks.”

“And the Saturday after that,” she went on, turning to me with excitement. “Radio City, here we come!”

I grinned, with a little effort. “Here we come. Thanks so much for inviting me.”

Peach stood on her hind legs and gave me a hug. We murmured our goodbyes and she left.

But George remained, sitting across from me and looking out the window. He was the last pony in Turtlewood and seemed in no hurry to leave.

I stood up to go. “See you around, George.”

He turned to me. “Oh, one last thing. Figured out yet what your cutie mark would be?”

I swallowed and shook my head.

“Pity. Well, there’s always tomorrow. Be seeing you.”

He looked out the window again, and I walked out with a lump in my throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> So that's Meg.
> 
> I haven't watched a lot of the older pony shows, but I've seen enough to find them interesting. The sheer wildness of life in the My Little Pony 'n Friends world is captivating compared to the civilization of Friendship is Magic. Even the unpopulated isolation of the G3 cartoon is compelling in a way. It's too bad the characters lacked definition. On a related note, at one point I fantasized about befriending Strawberry Shortcake's pony friend Honey Pie until I realized her profound lack of self-awareness.
> 
> I've played ponies with a five-year-old girl a few times, the daughter of a friend. That's the only classic toy-based pony play I've done, though I like to roleplay online. How about you? How would you approach a bunch of pony toys with a group of actual sapient ponies?
> 
> Also, wow, who wants a cutie mark of a bunch of dominoes falling over?


	15. Politics

"THERE’S ALWAYS TOMORROW.”

Those words of George’s stuck with me over the days to come. Their meaning changed from day to day. At first, they were a sunny if tired cliche about the persistence of hope. Later, they became a reminder of how drudgerous my life had become. What time I didn’t spend working, I now spent either searching for a job or moping about it. The search seemed futile, and there were times I found I didn’t want there to be a tomorrow… or might have if I’d had an alternative.

But then one day, the words started to say something else to me. They weren’t about hope and they weren’t about drudgery; they were about escape. They were a reminder that I could always give up. What if you don’t attain your goals? What if you can’t get anything you want? It may seem like the end of the world, but no, there’s always tomorrow. So long as you’re not about to die, no problem is as final or as all-important as it may seem.

So what would giving up mean? For me, it was obvious. It would mean moving back home. To Trenton. To my brother, my mother, my sister. To the old haunts and the old dullness. Away from the tri-state area and all its excitement. Away from Barrett and Laurie. Away from Peach.

But somehow, above all that, giving up would mean giving up.

I didn’t know what I wanted out of life, but I didn’t want that. I’d tried to psychoanalyze my reasons for wanting to stay where I was, but I’d never really reached the heart of it. There were practical reasons, the sort I could tell people, but they weren’t the real ones—it was actually about pride, somehow, and about reacting to what had happened between me and Cindy. Beyond that, I’d never gotten much of a handle on what I was doing with my life. I just knew it was what I had to do.

I’d been seeing the word _destiny_ a lot more over the last couple years. So had everybody in the world, for obvious reasons. Could this be destiny? Had I been destined to move to Elizabeth and stay there? Was it my destiny to meet Peach Spark, a scared little unicorn new to Earth, and be kind to her until she was ready to get by on her own?

Humans might not have destinies, but there was a fair bit of evidence that ponies did. If so, could my being in Elizabeth be part of Peach’s destiny?

And if it was, could it be that my part in her destiny was over? Now that Peach was getting famous in pony circles and making her way around the metropolis on her own, was I free again? Was it my choice again to stay or to go, to succeed or fail elsewhere at whatever I happened to wind up doing?

The more I dwelt on this idea, the less urgently I felt the need to stay in town. Whatever structure inside me had kept me stubbornly living here, an hour’s train ride from my family, was crumbling. I felt weak inside, but I also felt relief. At times I felt like crying, but I didn’t, since a breeze of hope was buoying me, too. It kept me swaying in the balance.

My lease would be up at the end of July. I knew I wasn’t going to find a better job. Not without new skills or new education, and I didn’t know what that might look like or how I’d pay for it. Moving back home felt like giving up, but I knew it might well be the exact change I needed to find a path, any path forward.

I went back to Turtlewood Coffee for lunch the next week. Peach wasn’t there, and neither was George. I recognized Skelter, the little sky blue earth pony with the tumbling dominoes on her rump, and we made small talk for a while. Aside from that, none of the ponies who at the meet-up were ones I knew. And that was okay. I’d just come to watch, and to listen.

* * *

I called my mother the next day. We talked about the possibility of me coming home. It’s funny the word ‘home’ could still mean what it had meant four years ago, rather than the home I had here. I didn’t tell her about my pony friends, and it seemed like Noam hadn’t told her, either. I told her about my cut in hours and that I wasn’t making ends meet anymore. She sounded understanding at first, then asked whether I could find a roommate.

I asked Mom how she’d feel about it if I found a female roommate. She seemed hesitant, but then said she’d take it. She wasn’t old-fashioned, she hastened to point out. Did I have a lady in mind?

No, I told her. There was no one I could ask to room with me. I was just curious.

Come home, she said. She couldn’t put me up in the little house she’d moved into when I’d left, but she could find me a better place than that crack house Noam’s friend lived in, she was sure of it.

* * *

I worked. I visited forums online I hadn’t been to in over a year. I watched a movie. I lay on the sofa, listening to music. I didn’t do any job searching at all.

I slept.

* * *

I felt different the next morning as I opened the windows and took in the mild summer wind while cooking an overelaborate omelet for breakfast. I felt resigned. I felt hollow, but in a good way. I felt free.

Today, I would see a pony princess. That would be a fine way to cap off my time on the outskirts of the biggest city in America. As final memories go, it would serve just fine.

As it turned out, the omelet was too huge for me to finish. As it should be, I realized. I packed some up in a leftover takeout box and went to apartment 412 to visit the pony who lived upstairs.

The door opened easily, revealing Peach clad in a light dress. It was much less obtrusive-looking than the one she’d worn to dinner at Laurie’s, pretty though that had been. This dress was taupe, a shade not too different from Peach’s own, and it didn’t high ride in back—in fact, it actually looked like it was tailored for a pony. Peach’s mane was coiffed in loose curls at the ends, but despite her mane and dress looking great, she seemed somehow disheveled.

“Hey, Sparky.”

“Hey, Pepper. Want to come in?”

“Sure, we’ve got a little while.”

There still wasn’t a couch or even an easy chair in Peach’s pad. So I went over and sat on the pile of pillows and watched her. She looked nervous.

I held out my box. “I brought you some of an omelet. You like eggs?”

This actually set her at ease in a way, even though the smile she gave me was weird. “Sometimes. Not really in the mood right now. My stomach’s light.” Still, the box floated in a haze of blue from my fingers and toward the fridge. “Thanks, though!”

“You look excited,” I said. Better than telling her she looks nervous, I figured.

“I am! I always wanted to meet Princess Celestia growing up, it was kind of my ultimate goal as a little filly. Then Princess Cadance got announced when I was, like, twelve, and she was my fall-back goal.” She gave me a huge, sheepish smile. “Now that she’s got an empire of her own, I figure she’s almost as good! And yes, now that I’m grown up, I realize meeting a princess isn’t going to change my life, but it’s still something I’ve been looking forward to forever! So I’m a little jittery.” She floated over a comb and a mirror and started slowly combing her tail.

“That’s really neat. And once you’ve met her, you can cross that off your list.”

“I don’t know what else would be on the list. I guess I’ll need a new one! What will the new big silly goal in the back of my mind be, once I’ve finally met a real life princess?”

From the file of Wrong Things to Say came a surprisingly raw reply: _How about cohabiting with a human?_ I didn’t say it. But in that moment, I realized I really didn’t want to move away if Peach was willing to give me an honest shot. It’s just… I knew that she wasn’t. “I dunno. Maybe we can get root beer floats or something after and work it out.”

She grinned. “I like that. Good plan.” The mirror and comb went back to their shelf.

* * *

The trip was quiet but rich in its own way. Once we’d gotten off the 6th Avenue Line, we kept pointing things out to each other. Interesting little places to eat or go shopping. People with funny clothes, or clothes that were all too serious. An illuminated fountain. A street musician. I thought how nice it would be to do this with an actual eye toward the future—if each little thing we pointed out represented something that would bring us closer later, one way or another. If we were a couple, we could call this establishing common ground. Finding out what we both liked and where we had room for disagreement or discussion. Deciding on the attractions for our next dozen dates. I wanted to cry, I was so close to being happy.

I had to tell her how I was feeling—that leaving town was on my mind. Not right now—I didn’t want to spoil the experience. But before the day was over, I would have to tell her.

* * *

As we approached Rockefeller Center, we spotted our first pony. Red-haired and pink, laboring under a luggage rack full of bags. Then we saw a pegasus flit dramatically through the distant sky. Peach laughed in delight. “Make a wish,” I joked, but she grew somber.

We stood at the head of the complex, faced with the towering GE building across the bustling Lower Plaza, itself flanked by over a dozen smaller skyscrapers. Peach sat down on the ground. After a moment’s pause, I sat with her.

“This must be one of the tallest places in the world,” she murmured. “Or am I wrong? Are human cities all this tall?”

“There are taller buildings than this even here in New York,” I said. “But I think this place might _seem_ the tallest. It’s up there, anyway.”

“Do you think your species likes tall buildings because you stand up straight so much?” suggested Peach sheepishly.

I grinned. “Could be. More likely it’s just we need someplace to put ourselves. There’s a lot more humans than there are ponies.” Even the most populous pony city, Manehattan, ticked in at just under a hundred thousand.

“Yeah!” Peach stood up. “Why’s that? I was never clear on it.”

“Not sure. I guess ponies don’t have as many babies. I heard a radio piece on it once, but I don’t think they really knew why.”

“I guess it’s hard to ask folks why they do or don’t have babies,” suggested Peach. “It’s a pretty personal question.”

“I don’t think that stops census takers over here,” I replied.

“No? How about you, then? Do you want to have kids someday?”

I grinned ruefully and shelved another response from the File of Wrong Things: I’ve already got five—didn’t you know? “Maybe. I really don’t know yet,” I admitted.

“Yeah, me neither. You think that’s dumb at our age? Think we should know what we want by now?”

I shrugged. “Maybe it’s dumb of me. I think you’ve got an excuse.”

“I do?”

“You’re here on a mission! You’ve got to see what Earth is like before you decide what to do next.”

That lit her up. “I guess I do,” she admitted.

I didn’t need to point out the music hall. It was blaringly obvious where it was, even in the daytime. Huge lit signs proclaimed the building on the corner as RADIO CITY. “STRAIGHT FROM THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE - FEATURING HER IMPERIAL HIGHNESS MI AMORE CADENZA”, said the marquee. Peach trotted over in wonder.

There were suddenly a lot of ponies around us. I was getting used to seeing them by then, but I still couldn’t resist looking at their cutie marks and guessing what their names might be. Peach floated up our tickets and we went into the Grand Foyer. It was fantastic—opulent everything, a blazing tall chandelier, a colorful carpet with pictures of instruments hidden in it. There was some time left before seating, so we wandered over to the exhibits on display.

I suspected that normally these flat cases would hold playbills for famous old shows performed at Radio City. Instead, they were dedicated to BronyCon 2017, which had been held in town last summer. BronyCon was a major fan gathering back when the show was just a show—I’d only heard about it afterward—but in 2017 it had become an informal meeting of the worlds. Equine celebrities had come to Earth and mingled with their supposed ‘creators’. And though I hadn’t heard about it at the time, they’d apparently taken a field trip to a Radio City gala.

“This,” said Peach, placing her hoof against a display case. “This right here is what I’m talking about.”

I looked over and saw a newspaper photograph of Rarity posing with Tabitha St. Germain in the very foyer we were standing in, the two of them looking saucy and naughty respectively. Below that was a photo of a dour Spike, hands on his hips, regarding a middle-aged silver-blonde who must have been Cathy Weseluck smiling innocently back at him. The caption: “I still can’t believe I was played by a girl.” Over in the next case was a huge print of Celestia, one wing slyly raised and being fondled wonderingly by a redhead I was ninety percent sure was Lauren Faust.

“What do you suppose that feels like?” asked Peach. “Meeting someone who’s a part of you, somehow. The actor who plays you, or the animator who draws you, or the person who came up with your backstory?”

I gave it some thought. “Probably different than meeting someone you helped create,” I suggested.

“You think?”

“Yeah. It’s probably a different feeling. But the same overall kind.”

Peach considered hard before nodding. “That’s the kind of connection I bet you don’t even get if you’re married to someone for sixty years.”

My heart beat a little faster. “Do you wish you had a creator you could meet?”

A wistful smile appeared. “Yeah, a little. What about you?”

I flashed on the Sunday Masses of my youth, before my mother had given in to my father’s point of view and let us stop going to a church we didn’t really believe in. I’d grown gradually agnostic throughout my teenage years, but before that, I’d sometimes grappled with the idea of meeting my Creator someday if I achieved salvation. Would I feel the need to ask questions? Or in that holy place, would all doubts be answered and my heart put at rest?

“I kind of do too,” I admitted.

She looked at me. “Now do you get why I had to come here?”

“I think so.”

She smiled and threw herself into reading a column by Cindy Morrow that had been reprinted in the New York Times. I skimmed through it myself. Morrow started out by dwelling on whether, if she’d written her episodes differently, different ponies would now exist, or the rules of Equestria might even work differently. She went on to ponder the chilling idea that a tiny creative change made for the smallest aesthetic reason could wind up shaping lives.

The column then veered into the amazing time she’d spent in Equestria. So far, only a few dozen humans had been invited to visit Equestria—new bestselling books about their experiences were still coming out regularly. Only a tiny handful had actually been granted royal permission to live there permanently, and all but three had declined for one reason or another. There was a particularly successful fan content creator who had overseen the production of a full-length unofficial _Friendship is Magic_ movie, along with his wife; the third was former story editor Rob Renzetti. That was it for the foreseeable future.

Would I want to go to Equestria if I could? Sure, of course. What healthy person wouldn’t want to at least experience a place like that? Would I want to live there? That was a lot more doubtful. But at least it would probably beat Trenton.

“I should have this kind of stuff in my apartment,” murmured Peach.

“What, a shrine to existentialism?”

Peach seemed aghast. “Ponies aren’t existential!”

“Isn’t existentialism all about the search for the meaning of your existence? Isn’t that what you’re after here on Earth?”

She shook her head. “I looked this up. Existentialism is about how to cope with having _no_ meaning. We ponies are drowning in meaning! We’ve got our cutie marks, which tell us who we are, and on top of that now we have you guys, who made us to be something for you, too. We have double purpose! Humans should all be existentialists. I’m like an anti-existentialist.”

She was too cute to argue with. “Fine—then a shrine to anti-existentialism.”

“I think it’d be more like a shrine to connections. Because that’s what it’s all about, Pepper. Connections. You know that, right?”

“Sure, Sparky. Anything you say.”

She frowned. “No, really. Connections are what bring us together.”

“Isn’t that kind of true by definition?” I asked.

“Slush,” she swore. “You know what I mean. I’m really glad I met you, Ronald. It means a lot to me. How about that?”

I put a hand on her back and squeezed gently. “I’ll take it.” She smiled.

I had to tell her.

But they’d just opened the doors for seating, so we filed into the auditorium.

When we got to our seats, we found Kellydell and Seaswell in the row just in front of us. We all greeted each other cheerfully, and then the ladies got to talking while Seaswell and I listened on. Peach thanked Kellydell repeatedly for the tickets and gushed over how excited she was about going to the VIP gathering. Was Cadance going to be there herself? Yes, of course! Was Shining Armor here? No, he was back overseeing the empire. Did Kellydell know what kind of show to expect? No, she really didn’t, and there was no program. When they started making plans for their next shopping trip, in the Bronx, I let my mind wander back to my situation, and Seaswell stared at the stage.

It got dark. Glittering lights invaded the darkness from the edges of the huge stage, and the regal notes of a trumpet cut through the silence. No, not a trumpet—a flugelhorn. From above descended a gleaming structure, a crystal palace lit up from the sides in various colors. The horn seemed to herald the return of light… and then came the ponies. Eight of them, clad in sparkling silver spandex or something like it, all mares. Something delicate about their pastel coloring told me instantly that these weren’t earth ponies—they were crystal ponies, far from home. Two of them, one on each end, thrust up halberds with sparkling silver tassels flowing. They marched together, four and four, into a line that turned to face us. A clear, enthusiastic female voice announced from offstage: “Ladies and gentlemen, fillies and gentlecolts—the Crystal City Rockettes!”

As the audience erupted, the Rockettes, still facing us, switched from marching in place to an elaborate line dance filled with maneuvers that echoed the words of their song:

_We all have those days when we can’t move our legs_   
_And we want to just lie back and coast._   
_And somehow the drive that makes us feel alive_   
_Deserts us when we need it most._   
_Well, we know a way to get back what you’ve lost:_   
_It’s to dwell on what moves you inside._   
_Remember your heart and a path will come clear_   
_That’ll put back the oomph in your stride._

_Recall who you are and your strength will return_   
_Whatever has stopped will restart!_   
_Because when you’ve got heart, you love what you do—_   
_When you love what you do, you’ve got heart._

I leaned over to Peach, who was watching with eyes fixed and ears perked. “The real Rockettes don’t sing,” I whispered. “They just dance.”

“Well, I’ll take these, then,” she whispered back, not moving her eyes.

_Some people make art in familiar forms_   
_Like sculpture or music or dance_   
_While others wish they could make some of their own_   
_If only they had half a chance._   
_But art at its essence is just self-expression_   
_And no one has your self but you._   
_If you don’t express it, it won’t get expressed_   
_So we highly encourage you to!_

_There’s no one among us who isn’t an artist,_   
_There’s no one among us who doesn’t make art!_   
_Because when you’ve got heart, you love what you do—_   
_When you love what you do, you’ve got heart._

All through the song—which, needless to say, was tremendously energetic—a huge heart, apparently also made of crystal, descended in front of the palace backdrop and hung in the midground. The lights rose and shifted from the palace to the heart, making it shimmer in ethereal green and crimson.

_We all go through times when we just don’t fit in_   
_And feel like we don’t belong._   
_On days when our differences come to the fore_   
_It makes us feel freakish or wrong._   
_And that’s why we look to the heart to remind us_   
_That what makes us special is grand!_   
_We each chart a course that’s both precious and rare_   
_Which all of us should understand._

_You may not fit in—you’re still part of the puzzle._   
_Though you’re not a princess, you’ll still play your part._   
_‘Cause when you’ve got heart, you love what you do—_   
_When you love what you do, you’ve got heart._

The ponies pretending not to fit in were adorable in their consternation—it was like the uplifting opposite of that creepy song from the Season Five premiere, and it culminated in a rip-roaring final chorus full of high kicks, fore and rear. Now, as the music changed, a green spotlight shone center stage and a light green Rockette stepped forward to perform a solo:

_Princess Cadance needs our help—her magic will not last forever. I think we can do it, but we need to work together._   
_Oh, we’ve got to clap out loud. Yes, we’ve got to make her see—we can bring the Earth together through our unity…_

The rest of the Rockettes clomped the stage enthusiastically, and this became a swell of growing applause throughout the theater that I joined enthusiastically. I heard someone call above the clamor: “We love you, Cadance!”

Finally, at the height of the applause, the huge heart rotated around, revealing—yes it was—Princess Cadance contorted just so in order to fit snugly into the heart-shaped chamber inside. She smiled, then unfolded herself, gracefully emerging and flapping down to the stage. In addition to her imperial regalia, she was wearing a billowing rainbow dress with emphasis on the pinks and reds. The settling of the dress once she’d landed was an event in itself.

She stood gracefully front and center, wings raised halfway, eying us as though she knew each and every one of us had a secret, if she could just figure out what it was! The lingering waves of cheering and applause allowed the audience to interact with itself, after a fashion. They also gave us time to process the fact that we were seeing an alicorn in real life, most of us for the first time. Beyond her race, I found myself fascinated by the fact that I was looking at someone who’d spent her whole life being pink. Caucasians like me are sometimes called pink, but we aren’t really—it’s just that pink is kind of the closest color for it. Cadance really was pink, through and through. I mean, I don’t know what color her skin was under her coat, but the color pink symbolizes things, and whenever she’d looked at herself, growing up, that was the color she’d seen. What effect does that have on a person?

I wondered what she’d say first. But instead of introducing herself or greeting her full house of New Yorkers, she lifted her neck and started to sing. The audience quickly fell quiet, but roared again for a few seconds after she delivered her first line, accompanied only by the quavering of an unseen string section:

_Squirrels on the pine tree_   
_Swiftly giving chase_   
_Around the base_   
_Now face to face_   
_Their pulses race;_   
_They have a place here._

_Finches in the treetops_   
_Rarely ever rest_   
_But work with zest—_   
_They’re not distressed_   
_But know they’re blessed:_   
_They’ve built a nest here._

_And you_   
_Can be part of it too!_   
_Can be part of it too!_   
_You’re worthy of it too!_

The melody of the verses had been quick and spirally, like things flitting in the forest, but the chorus was so… straight-to-the-heart, so urgent, that it was actually chilling. Each line’s final ‘ooo’ sound was prolonged for quite a long time and dropped a tone after a couple of seconds. The strings hid behind the princess’s voice, amplifying it without making their presence obvious.

_East wind through the branches_   
_Merrily it flits_   
_And sometimes sits_   
_But one admits_   
_It never quits_   
_Because it fits here._

_Foundling in the forest_   
_Wretched little soul_   
_This winged foal_   
_We’ll make her whole_   
_Down to the knoll_   
_She’ll find a role here._

_And you_   
_Can be part of it too!_   
_Can be part of the zoo!_   
_You’re worthy of it too!_

The Rockettes had left the stage by now, leaving Cadance alone. The intermittent woos from the audience were gone, too. All of us sat stock silent, transfixed by the song, even if we had no idea what it was about.

_Ponies in the village_   
_Underneath a dome_   
_Of trees they comb_   
_The precious loam_   
_No need to roam;_   
_They’ve built a home here._

_Lonely old enchantress_   
_Fills them with chagrin_   
_And hearts of tin;_   
_She turns to sin_   
_Because she thinks_   
_She can’t fit in here._

_But you_   
_Can be part of it tooo_   
_I only speak what’s true_   
_You’re worthy of it too_   
_Here’s what you have to do_   
_Here’s all you have to do…_

The prolonged pleas got higher and higher, more and more strident, as if they were breaking down a massive wall… and then she fell silent for a good five seconds. In a quiet, hesitant voice, then, with no strings behind it, Cadance continued:

_Please take off your necklace._   
_Leave it here and go down to the village to repent_   
_You… can tell them that I’ve sent you._   
_Please do this as you’re meant to._

Again she paused. But now part of the audience broke out in ovation—not everyone, just a few people here and there. Gradually the rest of us realized the song was over, and we joined in the clapping and stomping and enthusiastic yelling.

Cadance looked back and unfastened her dress in a flash of cyan, casting it away. As she looked back at the cheering crowd, her expression was modest, even humbled. As if she were as amazed at what she’d just sung as we were. Without the billowing dress, it was like she’d just arrived, another spectator who just happened to be on stage. It felt like we were already connected—the princess of love and six thousand friends she didn’t happen to know quite yet.

When the cheering finally died down, she spoke. There was no microphone, but somehow her voice carried; the acoustics were great. “That was the song that changed my life,” she told us, and was promptly met by another wave of cheers. She blushed and smiled adorably. “Count yourselves lucky. It’s the first time I’ve ever sung it on this side of the portal!” Still more cheers.

Peach tapped me on the shoulder. “She must have sung that song to Prismia the enchantress just before she ascended!” she whispered.

“If you say so,” I whispered back, having no idea who that was.

I wondered if Cadance would launch into another song. Was this a concert? A cabaret? A variety show? None of the advertisements had made that clear.

“It’s great to be back in New York,” she said modestly. “As you probably know, I’m going to be addressing the United Nations General Assembly tomorrow, after which I’ll be meeting with various ambassadors. But it’s wonderful to get such a warm welcome here first!” Up went her wings, and once again up went the applause.

That’s right—I remembered hearing about Princess Cadance serving more and more as an ambassador to Earth. Not just for the Crystal Empire, but for all Equestria. Sometimes the news stories referred to her by her official name--Mi Amore Cadenza.

“So, since the welcome here is so warm,” she continued, “I’d like to warm up here for my sessions tomorrow. I know it’s not typical for Radio City, but is it all right if I talk to you about politics?”

Well, that wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting. The crowd seemed to feel likewise, since the response was scattered, with a random “WOOOT!” punctuating half-hearted applause.

“Oh this is neat!” said Peach, adjusting herself in her seat. Apparently she, at least, was excited by the prospect of politics.

Cadance folded her wings and strolled along the front of the stage. “Out of curiosity, how many of you have been keeping tabs on my little sister-in-law?”

There was a mixture of hoots, applause and raised hands. I raised my own. In her most recent episode, Twilight Sparkle had followed Penduluminus, the EOS delegate from Hollow Shades, back to his home in order to help him with his animal intelligence research. Fluttershy had come along, and the three of them had run into some rather comical problems with forest monkeys.

“She does stay busy, doesn’t she? It can boggle the mind how hard it can be to reconcile all the different interests spread across just a single sprawling country! We saw that two weeks ago at the animal rights conference in Baltimare. Well then, think of how hard it must be to reconcile the differences of an entire world of nations! In a very real way, it’s the greatest challenge either of our worlds faces. How can we acknowledge our differences, learn to accept one another, and find a way to get along as we move forward?”

It turned out that Cadance, Princess of Love, had been captivated by the challenge of just such a problem, and had therefore been spending a great deal of time over the last two years laboring for the worthy and lofty goal of peace on Earth. I hadn’t known this, but it was reassuring to find out. With allies like her on the side of peace, we were surely in good hooves, or at least better off than we’d been on our own.

She talked for a while about mediation techniques—how they applied to international negotiations, and where they fell short. She then discussed the necessity for some kind of force to underlie any talks, even if it was just implied and hypothetical. War, of course, was unacceptable except in self-defense, she said, and outlined the horrors of war from an Equestrian perspective, somehow managing to make it seem both more innocent and more horrible than my own education had. She then moved on to sanctions, likening them to a relationship gone sour. She told us about Russians who blamed American sanctions for their economic problems while simultaneously ignoring the effect of sanctions imposed against the West by their own country.

She then described some of her own experiences at the UN—the benefits and drawbacks of representing a disinterested, truly foreign power. The United States, she said, had long played the role of world peacekeeper, involving itself in diplomatic and military conflicts far from home. But that, in part, was because of its desire to maintain the status quo, and thus its status as the world’s only superpower. Much of the United States’ foreign policy in the Middle East, for example, revolved around protecting Israel, regardless of any overreach Israel might commit—because the U.S. needed a regional ally. Thus, she told us, much of the political power on Earth was spent on either maintaining power or gaining more. The U.S. was the best peacekeeping body on Earth—more so than the European Union or even the United Nations itself—and yet even it was highly biased and thus highly flawed in its oversight.

Equestria’s place in things was different and harder to classify. They were a superpower in their own world, but as yet it was unclear how much influence they would have on Earth. “On the one hoof, our entire equine population is smaller than the population of this single human city,” Cadance pointed out. “On the other hoof, we have magic—a resource with the potential to transform your planet, for better or for worse.” Most pony magic was done and developed by ponies themselves, in accordance with their own special gifts. Spells and magical artifacts were relative rarities. But now that a new, huge world of magicless people had appeared, that seemed to be changing. Could Equestria influence Terran politics by withholding magical products from some countries and offering them to others? Or, given that the nature of magic performed on Earth was still unclear, might doing so only harm those groups and countries Equestria wished to help?

Moreover, continued Cadance, should the unique nature of the relationship between FiMland and Earth have any influence on the policies Equestria should adopt? Did it owe especial allegiance to Canada or the United States of America, for example, as its ‘creators’, or to English-speaking countries in general, given that they essentially shared a language?

In many ways, Cadance said, the leadership of Equestria identified more with smaller Terran countries they considered more peaceful or in need of greater help. She said that Equestria had been making efforts to aid the struggle of Tibet against the Chinese government, something I remembered from the news. Ponies had been active in Ukraine and the Baltic states, and had made friends in Ecuador, Taiwan, Uzbekistan and Burundi. We might have heard, Cadance said, of the pilot program currently in place to make crop enlargement spells available in poor parts of Central Asia and South America. This, the princesses judged, would be relatively harmless whether it succeeded or failed.

At last she finished her remarks, stopped pacing, and came back to center stage. “I’ve been talking for quite a while, and I’m sure many of you have questions for me. I’d like to hear from some of you! Go ahead and raise your hands, or hooves, and I’ll call on you.”

I tried to think of whether I had something to ask, but before I could come up with anything, a sea of raised limbs flooded my field of vision and I decided to pass. Peach thought for a few moments and raised her hoof.

Princess Cadance started by calling on a black woman in the second row.

“Your highness, I’m curious—were you at all afraid to come to Earth, when the opportunity presented itself?”

Cadance bit her lip for a moment in reflection. “Well, of course! I was one of the first to make the trip. It was a voyage to an unknown world at a dangerous point in our history, and all we knew was that we were going to a place where we were ‘known’. Known in a way that even our own parents could never know us—that was what the spell’s framework promised.” A pause followed in which Cadance again chewed her lip. “Then again, I had a whole village for parents, and even the family I spent most of my childhood with never knew me quite like a real mother and father. And Celestia… her parents were a long, long time gone. So I guess that part of the framework was more… enticing to us than it was frightening. We had a chance to be ‘known’, in some special way… like foals, but more so.” Her eyes went distant. “So, yes, it was frightening. But it was exciting, too, and it was hard to be afraid when Aunt Celly was there with me, helping me focus on the positive.” She finished with a determined smile.

“And now that you know where the portal led, are you relieved?” asked a thirty-something man without being called on.

Now the princess’s smile burst into something wonderful and appreciative. “I’m very relieved! It’s been far beyond my expectations, but it’s also been amazing getting to know the people on this side of the portal.” I heard a smattering of delighted murmurs.

Cadance called on a pony next, a mare with curly orange hair. “It’s been almost six years since the Crystal Empire returned from its thousand-year exile,” she said. “I’d like to know… how modern has it become by now? Have you been importing modern conveniences?”

“We’ve certainly been doing that,” said Cadance cheerfully. “But the funny thing is, even before its exile, the Crystal Empire was on what you might call a separate technological track altogether! It turns out that you can do all kinds of things with specialized crystals. Who knew? For example, you’d be hard-put to find a record player in the Empire, let alone any of the modern Terran devices for recording sound. But a pair of aural resonator crystals with opposite chirality can also record and play back sound, and were being used as such a millennium before the phonograph was invented. Likewise, modern medical equipment is in short supply, but there’s a well-respected tradition of crystal healers who can handle minor maladies.” She paused to reflect. “We are importing a lot of fabric, though! There have been a number of advances in fabric over the last millennium, and crystals aren’t much good when it comes to being soft… although they can make excellent irons!” She pointed at a man with thin hair and a tweed jacket. “Next question.”

He stood up. “Your highness, I just wanted to respond to the position you took in your speech, suggesting that America is just interested in using its power to get more power. I don’t think that’s true at all. We do what we can to help when no one else can, or will. You’ve talked about giving magic to smaller countries like Ecuador and Denmark and Taiwan before giving it to America… I’m concerned you may not be giving enough weight to the unique role the United States has played in our world’s history.”

Cadance kept her cheerful cool. “I think you’ll recall what I said was that the United States uses its power to maintain its own power base, not necessarily to get more. As for the unique role this country has played in Earth’s history? I’m sure I don’t appreciate it as much as a native does, but I think I understand the gist of it! This is the fount of democracy, the successor to ancient Greece. This is where humans threw off their kings and their aristocrats and tried living as equals, as much as they were able. This country’s beginnings were like the beginnings of Equestria, for those two brief decades before Celestia and Luna were tapped to rule.” She took a deep breath and became more serious. “But Equestria is different now, and so is America. America set an example for a world ready to rule itself, but there were too many mysterious pitfalls along the way. Too many opportunities for missteps as this world entered a new era. Things like slavery, robber barons, exploitation of the poor, nationalism, and corruption. And now, from my outside perspective, it seems that America is no longer setting the example it used to. While I love this country as a visitor, I don’t think it needs Equestria’s help nearly as much as some.”

There were discontented murmurs. She called on a cream-colored earth stallion next, sitting not far from us. “Do you have any hobbies, your highness?”

Cadance bit her lip. “Most of what I do is tied up with politics in one way or another… or with my loved ones. As a head of state, you don’t have much time for hobbies…”

“Celestia does!” shouted a male voice from near the front.

Cadance outright laughed before reining it in. “Celestia has been ruling for so long that she’s found ways to _make_ time,” said Cadance wryly. She lifted her head in thought. “Oh! Here’s one. I have a room full of crystal trees in the basement of my palace. Sometimes I like to stop in and decorate them, and they go on display every Heart Day. Does that count as a hobby? Yes?” She smiled broadly. “All right. Next question!”

“Princess Cadance,” asked a brunette in a dark suit, “have there been any more All-Equestria Summits since the one where the jeweled statue got destroyed?”

“Yes! In fact, we’ve held two summits since then—one just after the God-Tremor abated, and another one last year. Many of the delegates were the same ones you saw on Twilight’s show the other week, but not all of them.”

“Follow-up—it seemed strange to me that Spike didn’t have anyone he could take his problems to aside from Twilight on that occasion. Why doesn’t Celestia seem to have any staff aside from her guards?”

Cadance smiled an uncomfortably large smile and chose her words very carefully in response. “Well, my auntie has a…. philosophy of… minimal government. She believes in… letting people figure out how to solve their own problems. And that carries as far as her palace staff, which is also… almost absurdly minimal.” The princess stifled a laugh, and some of the audience chuckled back. “I’ll just say, I’ve had to sweep out coal dust at Canterlot Palace.” More slightly awkward laughter. “All right, moving on.”

There weren’t as many hands or hooves up now, but those that remained, like Peach’s, were stalwart. Cadance called on a stubble-faced man in a sport jacket.

“Princess Cadance, there’s been a lot of talk about the so-called Nightlight Doctrine. Can you tell us once and for all whether there’s any truth to it?”

I could immediately sense the room’s discomfort—I was feeling some myself. The Nightlight Doctrine was a supposed cornerstone of the ‘Equestrian agenda’, according to crackpots and certain TV pundits. Supposedly, Equestria’s long-term goal was to put pony princesses in charge of everyone on Earth. There was no written record of it, but an anonymous government leak had gotten people talking and riled up the anti-pony crowd. Honestly, I felt embarrassed that Cadance had even been asked the question.

She took a deep breath, then let it out with a neat little sigh, releasing her tension. “I’d be glad to. Auntie Luna said she doesn’t mind me telling that story. The truth is… we get together now and then, when we can, Shiny and me and the other princesses, for tea and cakes and long, interesting talks. Sometimes one or two of our closest friends are there as well. On this occasion, which was about a year ago, Shining Armor had his father over, a really delightful stallion called Night Light. We were about three cups of tea in when we started talking about Terran politics. Night Light asked me a lot of questions about my work, which was flattering, and even though I couldn’t tell him as much as I wanted to because of national security concerns, I told him enough… let’s call them horror stories about politics on Earth that he just couldn’t contain himself. All through the ice cream course, Night Light kept coming up with what he thought were clever solutions to the kinds of problems I’ve been talking about, the pitfalls in Earth’s governmental systems. And I kept answering his suggestions as lightly as I could! Well, Aunt Celly and my husband found it rather funny, but Aunt Luna, who was sitting on a tuffet off in the corner, apparently took it all very seriously. Out of nowhere, she said…” Cadance cleared her throat to affect Luna’s voice. “‘…It seems to me what these people need is a benevolent dictatorship.’”

There was dismayed murmuring. Cadance stepped forward to regain the audience’s attention. “Oh, don’t worry!” Somehow she managed to say it in a way that was comforting, not patronizing. “It’s not going to happen. At least, there are no plans whatsoever to make it happen. Still… we did start to talk about the possibility—just as a wild, unrealistic idea, you understand. What if the great advantage that Equestria has over Earth is that we are… lucky enough to have rulers that the people trust? Of course, it’s an unfair comparison. Equestria is just one nation, after all, and there are nations on Earth—mostly the small island nations—that trust their rulers as much as Equestrians trust ours. I feel very honored by that trust, by the way, since I haven’t really had time to earn it! But the great nations on Earth, the ones with the power, don’t trust their rulers. They’re divided thoroughly, every one of them, even the ones where the head of state wins reelection after reelection. The only nations in your world with the same kind of trust Equestria enjoys are the small ones that only continue to exist at the mercy of their larger neighbors.

“And after I’d given it a fair amount of thought, I realized that wasn’t a coincidence! It has to be that way. In order to be respected in the modern world, Terran countries need to be ruled by the people, whether that means a democracy or a communist republic. Kings and queens are seen as dangerous relics of the past, and believe me, we ponies have had our share of those! Dictators are likely to be hungry for power and wealth. And for a central party or a democracy to function, there needs to be division! Even though it sounds like a paradox. Without factions or parties striving for control, the people have no choice. And where there’s no choice, there’s no voice. But when there _is_ division, the leaders who come out on top are sure to have plenty of enemies.

"And the more I thought about it, and discussed it with the others, the more we realized how true it was in our own world as well. The Tricky Folk and minotaurs are constantly struggling for dominance over each other. The Saddle Arabians have competing princes. The Breezies have an amazingly complex political system for how few they are, and it certainly doesn’t leave them all happy. The zebras have no central government—they’ve tried to establish one a few times, but it’s always failed. The griffons are even worse off—they used to have a monarchy, but the throne’s been unfilled for decades! And so on. It’s sad, but true: in all the known world, the only large nations fortunate enough to be truly united around their rulers are the Dragon Kingdom… and Equestria.

“Because of our traditions and our magic, and because we’re fortunate enough to have wise, long-lived rulers like my beloved aunts… the people of Equestria _do_ have a choice, and they _choose_ to be ruled by the monarchy. It sounds like propaganda coming from me, but it really is true. They do! And if that gift could somehow be given to the world… to our friends on both sides of the portal… well, wouldn’t it be a good thing? That was the line of our thinking, anyway, and Night Light kept bringing it up for a while whenever I saw him. It’s the sort of whimsical idea, or pipe dream, that you keep in the back of your head and think about, just in case, even though you know it could never happen. And that’s all it is! But apparently Night Light was a little indiscreet and now people are worried. I just want to affirm once again that Equestria is completely committed to respecting the sovereignty of all recognized countries on Earth. The Nightlight Doctrine is not a doctrine at all… it’s just a distant fantasy.”

She seemed to have quelled the room’s unrest. I was surprised to find myself more at ease than before, even though I’d never given any credence to the mysterious Nightlight doctrine. The sense of ease Cadance’s voice produced was so soft and fluffy I felt like I could fall backward and let it catch me.

“But that was far too long an answer, wasn’t it?” laughed Cadance. “I’m sorry. Let’s hear from someone else. How about… you?” She called on a middle-aged woman in a ribbed sweater.

The woman stood up. “Hello, Princess. My question is… do you feel any kind of special relationship, or fealty, to Hasbro, given that it was a Hasbro executive who decided you should be introduced to the show?”

Cadence smiled, her ears tilting back in embarrassment. “I admit, that’s a new one! Fealty?”

“I’m just asking,” shrugged the woman, sitting down.

“It’s true,” said Cadance, “I do find it funny whenever I’m asked something like, ‘How does it feel to have been created by Hasbro?’” The audience chuckled. “Well, let’s dispense with the idea I was created by a corporation. Like most anypony you might ask, I was alive and raring when _Friendship is Magic_ was created. What was created was a character who happens to share my life. Or to speak more broadly, what DHX Media created was an image of me and my world—an accurate image, but an incomplete one. The way I see it, the Hasbro executive committee who decided their program needed another princess to rule over a new empire in the north was simply inspired to make their creation more closely match reality. Lauren Faust hadn’t known about the curse on the Crystal Empire, but it had to enter the story somehow! So the fact that Twilight Sparkle had a big brother in love with her former foalsitter—a fact which the writers to that point had never realized—was discovered through the magic of committees.” Laughter. “Oh, and my character was named for a little girl called Cadince with an ‘i’, by the way. I haven’t had a chance to meet her yet, but I’ve met her father! And the naughty side of me thinks that I could have asked him, ‘How does it feel to know that your daughter was only born in order to help Hasbro figure out my name?’” Bigger laughter this time, and I was part of it. “But I didn’t say that, of course, because I try not to be unkind.”

The princess strode to the very edge of the stage, confident again. “One last question! Yes, you!” She pointed to an excited red earth mare.

“Princess, when is the rest of Equestria going to start seeing tiny ewes? I’d love love love some for my petting zoo!”

This question, too, got laughter, but Cadance’s expression was one of regret. “We don’t have any plans to export our miniature livestock, I’m afraid. They were bred to do well in the cool northern climate and require rather specific feeding and care. Aside from which, we feel they serve the Crystal Empire better as tourist attractions than as products to be sold.”

The room felt disappointed. Cadance lifted her wings. “So, visit the Crystal Empire and spend all the time you like with them! On the plus side, we’ve been exporting crystal berries for several years, and we have several partnerships in the works to expand their distribution. We’re even in negotiations to send crystal berry pies, cakes, and lollipops here to Earth in time for Cake Day!”

The mood was back up. “ _We want Sweet Apple Acres!_ ” bellowed some guy with a louder voice than mine.

“I too hope the people of Earth get to try Sweet Apple Acres pies soon,” said Cadance cheerfully. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any part in that negotiation. Well! You’ve been a spirited audience—and I personally think that’s the best kind.” She was met with cheers and clapping. “Thanks so much for welcoming me back to New York. When I speak before the UN tomorrow, I’ll be boosted by the love and enthusiasm you showed me today. Thank you!”

She got a standing ovation. I stood and clapped for a while as people started filing out. The crystal mare who’d introduced the Rockettes came on stage. “We have Crystal Empire memorabilia for sale in the lobby!” she announced. “Souvenirs, postcards, statuettes! Replicas of the Crystal Heart! Newly cleared by customs, we have actual shards from the Crystal Palace, left over from the attack by King Sombra! Plus, an exclusive recording of a concert done by Pinkie Pie on flugelhorn! Yes, it’s as bad as it sounds. All sorts of goodies, folks, come and get ‘em!”

Kellydell looked back, amused. “She didn’t get any changeling questions!”

“Was she supposed to?” asked Peach.

“I thought she would. Earth audiences met her first when she was being impersonated. I thought we might have one as a joke.”

“But what would they ask?” posed Seaswell. “‘Are you a changeling now?’ She’d just say no.”

“I wonder how it’s going to go over that Equestria doesn’t want to send magic to America,” I pondered.

“I think we already knew that,” said Peach.

“But she was kind of explicit about it. Has anypony ever said that to an American audience before?”

“America has its own magic,” put in Kellydell. “You’ll do fine. Come on, we need to find the VIP group!”

We spotted a young black woman in a beige suit near stage right with a placard: “VIP LIAISON”. People were starting to gather around her, and eventually the crystal pony on stage announced that VIP ticket-holders should do just that. The group swelled as the main audience left for the lobby. With a turning of my gut, I recognized Pyrrha Parnassus. She was with a male minotaur, presumably her boss. I also recognized Red Rover from the ranch trip, though his mane and tail seemed to have been washed. No sign of Uncle Clyde. I didn’t recognize anyone else in the group, which seemed to be about half and half humans and ponies. All the humans and some of the ponies were better-dressed than I was. They mingled in little groups, talking politics and high society and random things I couldn’t quite gather the context for.

I turned to Peach. “What were you going to ask if she called on you?”

“I was going to ask if she ever uses her magical talent to make representatives at the UN feel love for each other.”

“Wow. That’s an interesting question.”

“Maybe I can still ask her! We’ll see.”

“I guess love just might be one of Equestria’s main exports.”

Peach made a funny face. “You can get love anywhere if you know where to look. Equestria’s got cooler stuff than that.”

“Cooler than love?”

“Love is more hot, anyway.”

“So what then, gemstones?”

“Yeah! You guys are so gemstone poor here! And we’ve got fruits and herbs you don’t have, either. I bet if they ever clear Heart’s Desire for export it’ll fetch a fortune.”

“Wow. I bet.”

Peach stood close as the liaison made a last call for VIPs. “What do you think it’ll be like when humans start using magic?”

I thought about it, but there were too many variables. “No idea. Things could get crazy. Everything could change. It seems like the sort of thing they’re going to want to be very careful about.”

“Magic has a way of getting loose when you try to control it,” said Peach. In that instant, I wanted her.

And in the instant after, I wanted to tell her I was leaving.

But the group was starting to move. Our hostess introduced herself as Talisha and proceeded to lead us backstage. She led us past dressing rooms and lounges, briefly pointed out Art Deco masterpieces decorating the halls and stairs, and eventually brought us to an elevator that took us in several trips to an upper level above the stage. Talisha opened the door and welcomed us into the Roxy Suite.

“This lavish apartment was added to the music hall by its architects as a present to the man who inspired so much of its early success, Samuel ‘Roxy’ Rothafel,” she announced as we entered. “Over the decades, it’s hosted a long list of luminaries, from Olivia de Havilland to Alfred Hitchcock to Elton John to Mariah Carey to President Bill Clinton, and now Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Please look up at the ceiling—it’s real gold leaf!”

It was something, all right. Everything was brown and gold, with fine wooden furniture, blazing gold lamps, and tremendous velvet drapes that went all the way to the high ceiling. Leather seating at one end, a large round table laden with food at the other. The group started to spread out through the suite in delight.

An emerald green Rockette slipped through a far door in a shimmering little dress. “Presenting… Princess Mi Amore Cadenza!” After her followed the other seven Crystal City Rockettes, each one beaming at us with strange hexagonal pupils in her eyes. Finally came Cadance, still in her regalia but nothing else, wearing a smile of discovery and amazement that made the room fall instantly in love with her.

“Hello, everyone!” she greeted. “I’m so glad you came to see me speak today, and that you’ve stuck around! I’m going to ask that if you’d like to speak with me, you should form a line along this wall and around the corner. You may want to stock up on food and wine from the buffet table first! There’s plenty for everyone. Everyone else, make yourselves at home, and welcome to the world famous Roxy Suite!”

I felt the urge to clap, but suppressed it. “Come on,” said Peach, hustling me toward the forming line.

She was quick. We were about tenth in line. Kellydell, who’d decided she didn’t care to spend her VIP treatment waiting, brought us some hors d’oeuvres (which we accepted gratefully) and flutes of white wine (which we passed on). Some of those ahead of us only wanted to tell Cadance how much they’d liked her song or her speech, or to wish her good luck tomorrow, but others had extensive questions for the princess, and she took her time with these conversations, remaining polite and not rushing anyone. It was actually kind of fascinating just to stand there munching on appetizers and listen to what this foreign princess had to say.

It wasn’t really that long before our turn. Peach and I stepped forward together and Cadance glanced curiously between the two of us.

“Loved the talk,” said Peach. “It’s great to hear about the work you’re doing here on Earth.”

“Thank you very much!” said the princess. “And who might you be?”

“Peach Spark! I write ‘Peach on Earth’, the blog.”

Cadance’s eyes flitted back for a moment, remembering. “…Are you the mare who wrote that amazing little poem comparing weather patterns to types of ponies?”

Peach brightened and relaxed her hindquarters a bit. “I wrote one about princesses, too!”

“Did you!” Cadance chuckled. “Mostly good, I hope?”

“It was just a little concept piece. But I’m firmly in the ‘princesses are awesome’ camp. You’re the bee’s knees.”

Cadance’s smile and the way she lifted her wings were perfect. She indicated me with her glance. “And this is?”

“Ron Pfeffer,” I said. “I’m her plus one.”

“Oh, I see! Well, Ron, are you here to see me, or are you just keeping Peach Spark company?”

I smiled self-consciously. “A little of each.”

Cadance looked between us perceptively, one forehoof tensed just off the floor. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything, and neither did Peach.

“All right, I give up,” said Cadance, setting her hoof down. “I can usually tell! But you two have me stumped.”

“Tell what?” asked Peach.

The princess looked bashful. “Are you a couple?”

Oh, wow. So she had a normally reliable couples radar, and we’d baffled it? I didn’t know what to think about that. I exchanged a glance with Peach, deciding to let her answer, but she just looked back at me.

“We’re not a couple,” I told the pink princess, forcing myself to sound lighthearted. “But I’d take her if she’d have me.”

Cadance frowned and Peach bit her lip. Had I said too much?

“I see,” said the princess. “Well, that’s a pity. There aren’t very many interworld couples yet, and the more we have, the stronger the ties that bind us become.”

Peach looked really uncomfortable. “Well, the truth is, I feel I’m kind of here on a mission,” she said in a low voice, shifting her eyes my way only once. “I’m just afraid if I get involved, it could derail everything. It could distract me from what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Cadance looked very serious. “And what exactly are you supposed to be doing?”

Peach looked down. “Building a connection between our two worlds. I think.”

Cadence inclined her muzzle in my direction, as if to ask Peach the obvious question.

“There’s someone else,” Peach mumbled. “Another pony. What if I end up breaking Ron’s heart and leaving him for the other guy? Won’t that just make things worse?”

“And so you keep yourself from loving,” said Cadance.

“I don’t think I could do that,” murmured Peach. “I just don’t… I just don’t act on it.”

“I see.” Cadance looked thoughtfully at Peach. “Didn’t you have a question for me in the audience?”

Peach looked up, changing gears. “Oh, right. I was… I was just wondering whether you ever use your love powers on delegates or ambassadors. To make them see eye-to-eye on things, I mean.”

Cadance sighed a quiet sigh. “Absolutely not. To begin with, no magic is permitted in the United Nations building. But even outside of there, I have to reassure everyone I meet that I _won’t_ use magic on them, or they’d be afraid to meet with me. And I can’t blame them! Negotiation is a meeting of minds, and if someone can change someone else’s mind by simply casting a spell, then it isn’t truly negotiation any longer. The truth is, I hardly ever use love magic on anyone without their permission anymore. As a teenager, I used to go about town ending arguments and making married couples tender with each other, but Aunt Celly helped me see why that was wrong.”

“Makes sense,” I nodded.

“Kind of sad, though,” said Peach.

She sighed again and looked at both of us. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

I decided we’d taken too much of her time. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” I told her.

She hesitated a moment before chiming, “Likewise! Enjoy the suite.” With that, she turned to the next in line, and Peach and I wandered aimlessly, processing the conversation we’d just had with the monarch of the Crystal Empire.

Peach seemed agitated, and I realized that I was too. “I noticed you didn’t mention anything about your racist parents,” I said quietly.

She looked up at me like a deer in the headlights. She even blinked. “Well, I guess they were never the real reason,” she mumbled.

“No? But you told me they were.”

“Well I guess I was lying. You heard the real reason just now. You heard how ridiculous I sounded.”

I squatted against the wall so my eyes could be level with hers. “You lied to me because you were afraid of sounding ridiculous?”

“I figured you’d think I was full of myself if I said I couldn’t be your fillyfriend because it might mess up my purpose on Earth!”

“What if being my fillyfriend _is_ part of your purpose here?”

“What? What do you mean? You mean like my destiny?”

“Isn’t that what you meant?”

She shook her head. “You think we’re destined to fall in love. That’s so foalish.”

“Foalish? You think I”m foalish?”

She walked along the wall behind a leather chair. “I’m sorry, Ron. It’s just… I’m trying to describe Earth to ponies back home in my blog, and I can’t afford to be biased about it, like I would be if I got too involved. And I know that sounds pretentious, like my blog is the most important thing ever, and I know it’s not, but I still have to do it right, and I feel like I can’t explain why it’s so important to me.”

I stood up slowly and processed the pain. “Well, if it’s so important to you not to be involved with me, then I won’t bug you about it. I’ll just leave you alone.”

She looked up plaintively. “Well you don’t have to be that way about it!”

“Are you going to complain if I’m too forward and complain if I’m too distant? Is that how this works?”

Peach looked like she couldn’t believe what I was saying. She turned and walked off. “I’ll see you later, Ron.”

“All right,” I breathed. I sank down against the wall, lowered my head and closed my eyes. What was I doing here?

Words filtered into my awareness as voices rose in the middle of the room. “…You can invoke the name of peace all you like, but if you keep using language like ‘alliance’, I have to expect you’re anticipating war!”

It was a chocolate brown pegasus stallion, dressed in fancy barding with stripes and six-pointed stars, arguing with the minotaur ambassador. They were starting to make a scene.

“One does _not_ speak to Mighty-Tongue Max that way!” shouted Pyrrha Parnassus, stepping forward and pushing the stallion’s forequarters out of her boss’s face.

He scrambled and backed away. “Well, you certainly don’t treat _me_ that way!” he shouted back at the bodyguard.

Cadance was on it, striding away from her line and into the room. “Enough,” she said. “If you need to debate politics, you’ll do it quietly and without posturing. No one should feel physically threatened by anyone else. Is that clear?”

It was clear. The minotaur representative drew his bodyguard away to talk to her, and the barded stallion retreated to his own cluster of friends. I wondered what had set it off.

Whatever the cause, Cadance was no longer at the end of a reception line. Now she was milling about with a crystal pony at her side, talking to people here and there. She looked a little anxious now; I couldn’t blame her.

I considered mingling with someone, but I couldn’t imagine where to start and what to say. Should I try to make conversation with the worked up brown pegasus and his friends? What about the minotaur bull and his overzealous bodyguard? I looked for gentle faces I thought I might connect with, and found a few, but I still couldn’t bring myself to go over and talk. What would I say? ‘Some show, huh?’ Yeah, that might do it, but then what?

In a better mood, I might have managed. As it was, I didn’t want anything more to just watch and exist. I was morbidly tempted to watch Peach chat her way around the room; she was braver than me. But she wanted her privacy, so I gave it to her. I got some food and a little wine, wandered around the edges of the suite, and played wallflower.

Watching Cadance, I decided, would be all right. This event was about her, after all, and she had to expect many of the room’s eyes would be on her. I watched her exchange remarks with a young human couple, wind carefully through the crowd, and return to her original spot in the corner to whisper something to the Rockettes. Over and over, I found myself wondering: What is it like to be her? What is it like to be one of only a few alicorns in the world, and one of the most eminent pony rulers? But even aside from all that... what is it like just to be the most important person in a crowded room?

When I saw Kellydell approach the princess and speak with her, I felt so distant from the situation that it registered just vague interest. But after a few moments, a shadow came over Cadence’s face. They beckoned to Seaswell, and he came over. Together, the three of them retreated behind some chairs in a far corner, and a trio of Rockettes stood guard to keep them from being disturbed.

Wondering what they could be talking about, I wandered over and watched from the opposite wall. They spoke for a while. Kellydell turned to Seaswell and kissed him on the forehead without passion. He kissed her a little more eagerly. Then Cadance lowered her horn to them and spoke, and there was a moment’s flash in the shape of a heart. Now, when Cadance spoke, the two teal ponies were taking in the sight of each other. They nuzzled; Cadance nodded and said something. The pair left and the Rockettes dispersed.

What had I just seen? Was it what it had looked like?

I cast my attention toward the other section of the suite and saw Peach, hobnobbing with one of the Crystal City Rockettes. I saw Red Rover chatting with Mighty-Tongue Max. I saw the chocolate brown stallion chatting with the hostess, flourishing a front hoof as if to make some elegant point. I sipped my wine and spoke with no one.

Sighing, I found a simple chair—one that had been brought in for the event, not one of the fancy leather ones—and sank into it. Maybe I wouldn’t have to tell Peach how I felt, after all. Maybe after our spat, she wouldn’t really care if I was leaving. No… of course she would. It hadn’t been such a big thing. She still cared for me, I knew… it was just the awful timing that bothered me. Why had our first real argument had to crop up now?

Then I heard someone asking Princess Cadance if she would please sing her part from that song all the princesses had sung that one time. I looked up in time to see the princess blush, but she eventually gave in to the pressure that inevitably mounted. Soon the whole suite of guests were craning their necks, listening to her sing:

_“But you stand here for a reason… you’re gifted and you are strong!”_ she sang to the roomful of guests. _“That crown is upon your head because you belong!”_

For a moment, I almost believed I had a crown on my head, and that I belonged in that room. Cadance waved her wings encouragingly, and half the suite, pony and human alike, joined her in singing:

_Know that your time is coming soon! As the sun rises, so does the moon! And love finds a place in every heart! You are a princess… you’ll play your part._

The Crystal City Rockettes formed into a quiet dance line, sweeping their heads and forelegs in unison. Someone else jumped in with a line that must have belonged to another princess, and then Cadance sang another line, and then the rest of the suite belted out the chorus again and wound up addressing Cadance herself with a final repetition of _“You are a princess… you’ll play your part.”_ She laughed bashfully and tried to get the attention off herself again.

It had been a nice distraction, but the song was so obviously not meant for me that my good feelings faded fast.

“Ronald?” I looked up at the sound of a male voice speaking my name. “Something wrong?”

Green horse. A green horse with wings. Seaswell. I’d never really taken a good look at him before, but now that I did, in my alienated state of mind, he struck me as just naive enough to be ridiculous. Ponies were still intriguing creatures to me—alien beings (though getting less so) or cute little things worthy of affection or pity. Seaswell wasn’t little, but I realized I still pitied him. He wasn’t an idiot, but he wasn’t smart. I hadn’t spoken with him much, but I knew that. Right now, his expression was innocence cut with concern. If I’d had the fortitude, I would have hugged him.

“It’s Peach,” I managed. “It turns out she lied to me, and it doesn’t matter what she lied about. We got angry at each other, and I don’t know what she wants from me now. I don’t even know whether she loves me.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to make eye contact.

Green feathers brushed my face. “That’s too bad. I hope you make up soon. I think you make a good couple.”

I touched Seaswell’s wing. “You and Kellydell make a good couple,” I said without thinking.

He seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “If we made a good couple, she wouldn’t get tired of me.”

“She gets tired of you?”

He nodded sadly. “We just got Cadance to renew our love. We’d been planning it for weeks. But she’s the one who really needed it. I still loved Kelly. I always do. But she’s so sophisticated, and I’m just not smart enough for her.”

I stared at Seaswell, the weirdness of the situation rousing me from my self-pitying stupor. That had honestly been what I’d thought I’d seen, but it still didn’t quite register. “Let me get this straight. Kellydell had stopped loving you… but she wanted to love you again?”

“She said she still loved me deep down,” the stallion said somberly. “But the freshness had worn off.”

“And now the freshness is back?”

He nodded slowly. “Princess Cadance said she hoped she could put the bloom back on the rose.”

I took a deep breath and hugged Seaswell. “You two must have something really special or she wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. Did you only get VIP tickets for this show so you could do this?”

“Well, her company gives her discounts for things like this. But that was part of it.” He made no effort to disengage from the hug.

“Well, I’m glad you had the chance,” I told him, releasing him. “Most couples wouldn’t be so lucky.”

“I know! I’d hate if Kelly felt trapped with me.” Sadness still hung over the stallion like a soaked beach towel.

“How did you meet?” I asked.

He brightened up a little. “I flew over Greenisle. I was flying over as many islands as I could back then, hoping to find the most exciting thing there. Sometimes I’d come back with a camera and take a picture. I thought it might be the Baloney Stone… but it was her, instead!”

“Kelly was the most exciting thing on Greenisle?”

He tilted to one side. “She really was! I courted her for a while, and she let me sweep her off her hooves. We had a great time at a steeple dance that afternoon! Then I came back the next day, and the next, and after a while she said I could go on a trip with her. I had so much fun, I asked if I could go on another trip with her, and another. And after three trips, I asked if she would marry me.” He straightened up. “She said she needed more time to decide. She went on another trip by herself, and when she came back, she told me yes, she would! And when she got sent here to Earth by her tourism company, I came along to help however I could.”

I wasn’t sure how to react to this story. “Did something happen on that trip she took alone that made up her mind?”

Seaswell dipped a leg uncertainly beneath himself in the shape of a piece of elbow macaroni. “She tried having a night with another stallion,” he admitted. “He didn’t treat her well, so she came back to me. I guess she decided having a nice guy was worth a lot.”

I nodded grimly. “Do you know what he did to her?”

He shook his head. “She never said.”

I wondered if something similar could happen with me and Peach. Would some time with George convince her that she wasn’t going to leave me for him? If only he would treat her badly, or be anything less than a gentlecolt. But then I realized that I was fantasizing about the mare I loved being abused, and that maybe George was the nice guy in this scenario.

This was no good. I wanted to leave. But should I go and tell Peach I wanted to go, or were things between us spoiled enough that we’d be leaving separately?

“Pepper?” asked Seaswell. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. Yeah, I think so.” I glanced and saw that Kellydell was engrossed in conversation. Seaswell seemed just as adrift as I did. “Hey. Want to see a new game I got for my phone? It’s pretty neat.”

“I’d be glad to!” He settled down on the floor, and I got down with him, and I proceeded to show him everything on my phone I thought he might care about.

We played and chatted for the better part of an hour. We didn’t really learn much about each other—it wasn’t that kind of chatting. We found a game we both liked, the kind where you progress through a map of levels, and he figured out how to work the touchscreen with a wingtip. We became allies in the quest to get as far as we could, now and then glancing up at some burst of laughter or some loud thing someone had said, discussing it briefly and returning to our game.

At one point, Kellydell came up and, after greeting me, kissed Seaswell passionately. He was definitely glad to see her. It was clear to me that she really did love him deeply, even if that hadn’t been entirely true an hour ago. But it was equally clear that their relationship was unequal. Kellydell saw Seaswell more as a prized possession than as a partner, or so it seemed to me.

The kiss done, Kellydell told us to have fun with our game and went back to schmoozing. So we did. Seaswell and I figured out how to traverse twenty dungeons full of slimes, goblins, and fiendish traps. This wasn’t so bad, really. Seaswell made a good companion for a simple activity, and the event would be ending in half an hour. I could easily hold out until then and revisit my troubles with an improved mood.

Again, a voice rose over the general ambiance. “What you overlook is the importance of honesty,” said the bull minotaur to another, different pegasus stallion—this one tall, proud-looking, and off-white, with gold rings on all four legs. “The pony hegemony is powerful, but it is built on mountains of dishonesty. Your rulers manipulate their subjects to bring about their magical ends. Your leaders routinely disguise mishaps, hoping to repair them before they are discovered. Even your so-called ‘Element of Honesty’, Applejack, is prone to gross deceptions. This, at least, the Minnow Empire can say for itself: We are ruthlessly honest. You will _not_ catch us dissembling or reneging on any deal.”

“You gonna call Las Pegasus dishonest? We thrive on honesty. We take pride in honesty. The moment we go crooked, no one wants to play our games anymore and we go belly-up. You trying to kill us, muscle man?”

“Mighty-Tongue Max would never wish to deprive an honest being of his livelihood. But look how sensitive you are! Would a truly honest pony react with such vitriol?”

“So now you’re callin’ _me_ dishonest? You sure you’re a diplomat?”

“Perceive, everyone! Mighty-Tongue Max asked a question about honest ponies, and he took it as a personal slight. The Minnow Empire has no need for your friendship, nor for your city with its foul secrets.”

Cadance appeared between the two, her jaw clenched.

The off-white pegasus fluttered just off the floor. “You think you can get away with telling an official rep that? Listen to me, muscle man, you need all the friends you can get.”

The minotaur leaned in. “Do not call Mighty-Tongue Max a ‘ _MAN’!”_

Cadance’s body flashed for an instant. “Excuse me. Does this _look_ like a place to air your differences? These people are trying to enjoy themselves. If you feel the need to yell at each other, go outside to do so, and don’t come back!”

For a moment, Pyrrha Parnassus stepped forward, and I thought she might actually be about to take a swing at Princess Cadance. But Max stepped back and planted his hands together in a bow, and Pyrrha got the hint. The pegasus from Las Pegasus scuffed a hoof and shied back, too. “Sorry, your highness. Really truly, I am.”

Cadance sized up the situation before a mostly silent suite. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mingle with the minotaurs for the rest of our time here,” she told him.

“Sure, highness. Sure, I won’t. I promise.”

She looked to the minotaurs. “And you will likewise refrain from provoking anyone?”

“You have the word of Mighty-Tongue Max.”

Cadance paused a moment before nodding decisively. “Good.” To the room: “Carry on! We have another half an hour before we need to go!”

I can’t say things were cheerful after that, but the scuffle got people talking. All around me were the excited tones of people who’ve just been fed something scandalous to gossip about.

“Is that true?” asked Seaswell. “Are minotaurs always honest?”

I settled down again, cross-legged on the floor. “Not like I would know. But there is such a thing as being too honest, you know.”

He tilted his head to one side. “Is there?”

Huh. Maybe for a guy like Seaswell, there wasn’t. “Sometimes it’s nice to spare someone an unpleasant truth,” I suggested.

He looked skeptical, his four legs bending a little. I was suddenly taken by an urge to talk to Peach. The idea of trying to bumble through our reconciliation only when the event officially ended now seemed comically stupid.

I picked my phone up. “I should go talk to Peach,” I told the green pegasus.

“Okay. And I’ll go talk to Kelly. But I had fun playing with you!” He leaned toward my phone with its game as I walked past him, as if he was naturally drawn to it.

“Likewise, see you around, Seaswell.”

Peach was talking with the hostess, Talisha, as she replenished the ice in the punch bowl. I waited for their conversation to end before walking up. Peach noticed me and jumped a little, then set all her hooves neatly in order. “Hey Pepper.”

“Hey, Sparky.” The nickname felt wrong in my mouth. Sparks were definitely _not_ what I was feeling just then.

She looked me over carefully. “You doing all right?”

I realized that the better part of an hour sitting on the floor had left my clothing even less impressive-looking than when I’d come in. “I’m okay.”

“I saw you over there on the floor with Seaswell. The next time I looked, you were still there. You’re not having fun, are you?”

I shook my head.

She looked nervously into my eyes. “Are you still mad at me?”

I searched my feelings. “Not really, no.”

She didn’t seem satisfied. We moved out of the way to let some other people get to the buffet.

“You want to go?” asked Peach.

I could have just said yes, but the broader meaning of the question resonated with me, and I decided not to pass up this opportunity. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Peach, but I want to go. Living on the edge of New York isn’t doing it for me anymore. I mean, really, it never did.”

I saw tears starting to form. “Wait. You mean you want to _go?_ ”

I swallowed. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been feeling this way more and more. I don’t have much here. It’s expensive, and I can’t afford it anymore, and I feel like… I feel like my work here is done. Whatever that work was.”

“So you’re… you’re moving away?”

“Back to Trenton. Yeah, I think so. I don’t know what else to do but start over.”

Her voice got plaintive. “But I can give you money! I’ve got enough to make up the difference. You’ve just got to manage it for me! You can be my money manager and I’ll take care of your rent.”

Now that would be a ridiculous situation. “I’m not going to be your money manager, Peach. But if I were, I’d tell you that spending it on my rent is a terrible idea. Barrett doesn’t live in the building anymore, and Laurie doesn’t work at the garden center. I don’t have any other friends good enough to stay for. I should leave.”

“You don’t have any other friends good enough?!” retorted Peach. “What about me?! What about this girl you’re looking at? Pepper, you’re my only real human friend! If you go, I’ll miss you! I’ll miss…” Her head shuddered. “I’ll miss you really hard.”

“So we’ll call. If you can ever bring yourself to get a phone.”

“I don’t want a stupid phone. I want a neighbor I can visit. You humans have all these thousands of neighbors and instead of talking to them, you just call people up on your computers and your phones.”

“Then why don’t you have any other human friends yet?” I challenged. “Why don’t you go out and be a good neighbor? Bake them a cake, like I did for you. Or just say hi.”

“I’m afraid,” she said.

“You’ve been here over two months. You’re blogging like a pro now. What are you still afraid of?”

“It’s hard!” she yelled. “Do you somehow not realize that yet? Moving to a place where everything is new, where everything is grittier, _realer_ than it is back home is _really hard_. I wish you could go someplace where humans are just made-up fantasy creatures so you could see what I mean!”

My heart pulsed with sympathy and anger. “You make it harder for yourself than it needs to be, Peach. All you need to—”

That’s when I saw pink in the corner of my eye. I turned to find Princess Mi Amore Cadenza sitting there tensely with her face taut, eyes wide, nostrils flared.

She spoke in a strained voice. “You two are _really_ testing me, you know that?”

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I didn’t mean to make a scene, especially not after those other guys.” I looked back to Peach. “Were we really talking that loud?”

“Jerseyites never know how loud they’re talking,” Peach said. “At least, that’s what they warned me before I came.”

“They’re like minotaurs that way,” muttered Cadance, her ears swiveling. “That wasn’t what I meant, but if you’ll excuse me.”

We hardly got a chance to excuse her. The chocolate brown pegasus with the barding and the off-white one with the rings were arguing with the minotaurs again. People were surrounding them from all sides and shouting their opinions. This time the hostess was in the middle, trying to talk things down to no avail. She pulled out a walkie talkie, presumably to call security.

“Those are dueling words!” thundered Mighty-Tongue Max, striking a pose.

“Pyrrha Parnassus will fight in your stead! It is her duty!”

“You want a duel? That’s not how we do things where I’m from,” snarked the tall off-white pegasus. “You’d better watch your backs at night, that’s how my folks do things.”

“And he claims to be honest!” roared Max.

“I _am_ honest! I’m honestly telling you to look out!”

“Mark my words, this is all part of their plan,” said the brown pegasus. “They came wanting a duel, and you’re giving it to them.”

“There will be no duel!” shouted the bodyguard, stomping her hoof hard enough to shake the lamps. “Pyrrha Parnassus will rend any pony who dares threaten Mighty-Tongue Max, and it will be a clean and honest battle!”

“Great balls of fire, they’re worse than angry yaks,” I heard the princess mutter before striding forward. “Listen to me! Stand back! Would you strike a princess of Equestria?”

“If honor has been impugned,” said the bull minotaur, “no force can be allowed to stand in the way.”

“Think really hard about what you just said,” advised the pink princess. “Go on. Think about it. Imagine the consequences if you try to come through me.”

“You’re just giving them the excuse they want, princess,” interjected the brown stallion.

“Hush!”

Most of the guests were starting to hurry for the door, so I took the hint and hurried with them. Peach’s hoof tapped me hard on the shoulder. “Wait! Are you going already? Am I going to see you again?”

My answer got cut off. “Don’t be intimidated,” cried Pyrrha Parnassus to her boss. “She has nothing worse than a shock beam and confusion gas. The Princess of Love has no truly offensive magic.”

“That is a point,” said Mighty-Tongue Max, stepping toward the off-white pegasus.

“You want to try it?” the pegasus shouted, beating his wings. “Just try it!”

“ _No!_ ” yelled Cadance. Her body, followed by her horn, shined a brilliant sky blue. “Do you want to know what I’ve got? _Here!_ ” She spun in place, sending bolts of blue magic into the four disputants. No, not bolts—hearts. Heart bolts. One for each minotaur, one for each pegasus, and more to follow. I got jostled and almost knocked over by the stampeding crowd.

“ _Ron!_ ” yelled Peach in the middle of a dozen other voices. “Don’t you dare leave without answering my question! Am I going to see you again?”

“I don’t know!” I snapped back, wracked with fear and anger. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

She was aghast. “I can’t! You can’t ask that!”

“Then we’ll just see!” I yelled.

A field of pink appeared on one side. I heard a female voice snap, “ _Oh for goodness sake!_ ” and then I was knocked over in a flash of cyan.

My right arm was clutched tight around Peach’s side, and we were stumbling through the hall toward the elevator.

I was crouching on the floor of the elevator, hugging Peach tightly, and she was hugging me. Voices were clamoring all around us.

We were standing on the grand foyer carpet with the art deco instruments hidden in it. There was still noise all around. I had the strange sense of an unfinished thought—something I’d been trying to process, or a conclusion I’d been trying to draw—but there were more important things right now than a dangling loose end in my brain. I squatted down and looked into Peach’s eyes.

She stared at me and licked her lips, sizing me up.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” she replied. She leaned forward, a little off balance. I wanted to take those four smooth-coated legs and just shove them out to either side so that she’d fall into my grip. How dare they hold her up when I wanted her in my arms? But I didn’t, because I had something to say.

“I want you to know something,” I told Peach. She looked at me like I was the only thing worth seeing in the whole music hall.

“What?” she whispered.

“I don’t want to go,” I told her.

She stared at me. We were at home in my apartment. I picked her up and carried her to the bed. I made love to her for hours. I remember getting up at one point to brew tea. I remember taking the tea to bed with me. I remember contrasting the dark brown of it with the peachy brown of her coat, and I remember saying so aloud. I remember warm tea sliding down the middle of my chest.

I remember thinking that sex with a unicorn is not easy. I remember not wanting it to be.

I remember lying in bed at an angle to each other and noticing the difference between the sound of my breathing and hers. I remember savoring how wonderful that difference was. What amazing things has nature wrought, I remember thinking.

I remember pancakes the next morning with raisins and lots of syrup. But I don’t remember very much after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> So yeah, that happened.
> 
> All of you who were rooting for them to finally kiss? Don’t worry, I think they’ll probably kiss pretty soon.
> 
> Ron and Peach are both twenty-eight. Ron was born in 1990 and Peach was born in the 980th Year of Celestial Peace, which is the same year. For a long time, I seriously considered a scenario in which Princess Cadance would discover, in the guise of having her assistants ask to add them to her birthday card list, that Peach and Ron had the exact same birthday. She would then inform them of this fact and confirm that they were both born in the late morning, most likely at the exact same moment, meaning that their lives were intertwined irrevocably by destiny. But would that mean that they were meant to be lovers, or would it be more of a Luke Skywalker/Leia Organa kind of thing where they were more like siblings?
> 
> I played this scenario out in my mind in various ways, but eventually decided not to take that direction, figuring that it would conflict with what the story was meant to be about—a random guy meeting a random pony.
> 
> So of course this happened instead. Because this sort of thing is always happening to random people, right?


	16. Songs

  
[Posted: 7/15/18 by Peach]  
  
All right, guess what. You know how some of you guys are always telling me I should find a boyfriend? Well, I’ve got one. His name’s Ron Pfeffer and I call him Pepper and he was the first human I ever met who told me we should be friends and actually meant it. We’ve been seeing each other for months and now we’re in love.  
  
You might be wondering why I didn’t mention him before now. Well, it was complicated. We weren’t sure if we were a unit, for one thing. But I think the real reason I didn’t mention Pepper is that I was worried it would spoil my cred. I mean, am I here to learn about Earth, or am I here to get mixed up in something crazy? But now I’ve finally realized they’re one and the same.  
  
So there’s really no reason to hold back, unless I make Pepper sound too good and every mare with a computer winds up wanting him, in which case I’ll have to fight you all off. So I’ll try and stay measured. Pepper is amazing. Do you know how it feels when you’re around someone who doesn’t really get the way you express yourself, so you have to be careful about the way you say everything? Pepper is the exact opposite of that. If anything, I have to worry about him understanding me too well and hearing things I didn’t even mean to say. We’re on the exact same wavelength. He tells jokes that aren’t even jokes, but he knows I’ll find them funny. He teases me just enough to keep me excited. Then he gets serious, and we both discover ideas and connections we never even thought of looking for. He’s the one who helped me set up this blog in the first place, plus half the things I’ve posted about were inspired by ideas I got from him. He’s sensitive and funny and self-controlled and laid-back but gets really intense when the situation starts to heat up.  
  
My family’s gonna read this and flip out. It’s okay, though. I can take it and so can they. Mom, Dad, everyone else? I’m doing good. I really am. I’m in love with a human being and it feels like drinking something really filling when you’ve had nothing but water for days. I feel healthier than I’ve ever been. I want you all to know this feeling is possible when you visit the world of your creators.  
  
Poem of the Day: Skin  
  
You can’t feel the tub you’re in  
Until you feel your lover’s skin.  
The best you can get from bristly hair  
Is the challenge of imagining it’s not there.  
Finer coats are more like a game:  
All the smoothness without the shame.  
Shaven skin should glow with pride  
Instead of just being stuff inside.  
Humans are good at being bare:  
When you feel them, you know they’re there.  
  


* * *

  
  
I watched over her shoulder as she pressed Submit. Even without the poem, this post was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about me. If I’d gotten married to Cindy, I doubted her wedding vows would have been so nice.  
  
Peach spun around in her fancy swivel chair, but stopped when I caught her eyes. We fixed our sights on each other and seemed to bore in deeper and deeper. A coy smile came gradually onto her face, and I suddenly felt one blossom on my own.  
  
I stepped forward and lifted her. She set her head on my shoulder and embraced me, closing her eyes.  
  
Finally, I was starting to understand the appeal of beanbag furniture. The fake leather was cool against my skin as I sprawled there half dressed, trying to decide whether I was cooling down or heating up. Peach was doing something in her kitchenette and the room was starting to smell tasty. “Whatever that is, I like it,” I called.  
  
“It’s cayenne pepper,” chimed Peach. “You may have had lentils before, but you never had lentils like this.”  
  
I’d actually had some pretty crazy lentils in my college days, but I didn’t feel the need to contradict her. “This is the best Sunday night ever,” I said.  
  
“It pretty much is, isn’t it?”  
  
I’d come straight to Peach’s place from work, and she’d hugged me before I’d made it through the door. And how I’d relished that familiar scramble of excited hooves! Now, the click and clang of her work in the kitchen was like a relaxing tape full of nature sounds.  
  
I reached out and managed to find my phone without getting up. So I lay there for a few more breaths, relaxing and inhaling the steam on the air, before pulling up my phone’s news app to see what people were saying about Cadance’s event.  
  
The New York Times: “America Needs Magic Less Than Smaller Countries, Says Cadance”. The article focused on her political stance and compared it to past royal declarations on the subject.  
  
The Newark Star-Ledger: “Cadance VIP event breaks down into violence”. It covered the show and speech briefly but mostly covered the fight in the Roxie Suite, which I was relieved to learn didn’t actually get very violent, aside from the fact that Cadance had had to take control. Apparently she was pretty good at it. “I’m terribly sorry for allowing things to get out of hand,” the article quoted her. “It saddens me that feuds from my home world carried over into my appearance on Earth and made people feel like their safety was in danger.”  
  
The New York Post: “Mi Amore Cadenza wows audience with songs, political address”. The article mentioned the fact that it was her first time singing “Plea to Prismia” on Earth but stayed vague about the politics. It mentioned that the “aftershow party” had “suffered from a scuffle between Equestrian leaders and minotaurs” but didn’t make a big deal out of it.  
  
The Wall Street Journal: “Princess Cadance calls for Softer Foreign Policy, Announces Magical Pilot Plans in Smaller Nations”. It went into the details of what she’d said, criticizing America’s role in the Middle East and listing specifics about the crop-growth programs she’d mentioned. The article had already been overshadowed by one about her remarks at the UN that morning.  
  
The New York Daily News: “Cadance: Nightlight Doctrine a pipe dream; radical proposal named for royal father-in-law”. It seemed like this article was focused on making us wonder whether there really was a threat of us falling into Equestrian autocracy. It occurred to me that ‘pipe dream’ had been an unfortunate choice of words on the princess’s part.  
  
Reuters and CNN’s news feeds concentrated on the political and economic implications of what Cadance had said. There was disagreement about whether the markets would rise or fall when they opened tomorrow. No mention of the incident at the VIP event. The weeklies would probably have something to say about it, I figured.  
  
I read the headlines to Peach as she cooked and summarized the articles. She was tickled by how different all the takes were, but concerned about whether Earth-Equestrian relations might be damaged. “I thought Cadance did a really good job and I agreed with pretty much everything she said, but now all these people are being grim about it.”  
  
“I think they’re just used to America getting special treatment. But it looks like she used her UN address to list a whole bunch of grievances Equestria has with countries all over the world, especially the dictatorships.”  
  
“Haah!” said Peach. “How did that go over?”  
  
I thumbed and read. “Doesn’t look like it made a lot of waves. But there is some analysis here… some commentators from MSNBC are saying we shouldn’t be too quick to lump in her criticism with what everybody else always says, because ‘Equestria’s response to perceived injustice on Earth may be outside the norm’, because they can do whatever they do ‘from a position of security, knowing that no known Terran force can invade or attack them, nor send aid directly to their enemies.’”  
  
“I’m really glad we’re safe like that,” said Peach. “Not that I don’t trust you people, but… well, you heard what Cadance said. Apparently no one trusts their own government around here.”  
  
“Well, we kind of trust it, but… international affairs are messy stuff. No one could get them right all the time.”  
  
“It helps if the governments are forgiving,” said Peach.  
  
“I think they have to be,” I said. “Otherwise we’d be at war all the time.”  
  
She didn’t answer that. I heard her spoon tinking the edges of the pot as she stirred.  
  
“Kind of weird they have a name for this song Cadance sang when she was a teen,” I remarked offhandedly. “If she just sang it for one person, why would she name it?”  
  
“Well, if you’re a celebrity, your songs get named. But where I’m from, if you have a song, you name it. Why wouldn’t you?”  
  
I was confused. “If you have a song?”  
  
Peach stopped stirring, disturbed. “I know humans have songs! You have radio stations crammed with music all the time! Plus you’ve got Daniel Ingram who had to create all our songs from the show. He must be a genius.”  
  
I sat up. “I was just confused why you said ‘If you have a song’ instead of ‘write’ a song.”  
  
“Is that the wrong word? I’m not talking about writing songs. Writing songs is hard. But Cadance didn’t write her ‘Plea to Prismia’ or any of her others, as far as I know. What do you call it when a song just comes to you?”  
  
I was taken with a nervous smile. “I think that’s more of a pony thing,” I told her.  
  
Peach clambered out of the kitchenette and over to me. “Wait, what are you saying? That humans don’t have songs? But I hear them everywhere! On the radio and on TV ads.”  
  
“Well, someone wrote those.”  
  
“You’re kidding me. You’re telling me every single song on the radio was written?!”  
  
“I’m pretty sure, yeah.”  
  
Peach stood with a sauce-covered ladle floating absently in front of her. “That’s crazy. How can—” She paused, mouth open, not sure what to say.  
  
“I guess there are kinds of music that don’t get written down. Like maybe sea shanties… and I guess the songs slaves used to sing.” I hoped that Peach wouldn’t ask me about slavery, but I guess she’d already heard about it.  
  
“But it’s not about whether it gets written,” she pressed. “It’s whether you piece it together painfully, word by word, or whether it comes to you!”  
  
“Well, some people make up little songs for fun now and then, like parents for their children,” I said. “But those don’t get sung over and over. Do ponies who have songs come to them sing them over and over?”  
  
“Some do.” She was still shocked, but seemed more excited than upset underneath it. “If you get a song, it stays with you in your heart. You never forget it.”  
  
I shook my head. “It sounds like something we don’t have.”  
  
“That’s insane. What about when we sang Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood together? Wasn’t that just coming to you?”  
  
“Well, I mean, I knew the words already.” But I had to admit, I’d felt a bit inspired. “Maybe sometimes some of a song just comes to us,” I admit. “When you’re in the zone.”  
  
“Is that what being in the zone means?” Slowly, Peach returned to the kitchenette and resumed stirring the stew.  
  
“It’s one kind of zone. I’m not that musical, myself.”  
  
“So there are other kinds of zones besides music?”  
  
“It’s just an expression. It’s not a real thing. It means… you’re doing whatever you’re doing really well, so well you don’t really need to think about it.”  
  
“Do you ever get into zones?”  
  
I smiled. “Sometimes when I’m cooking. Speaking of which, how long ‘til that’s ready? It smells great.”  
  
Peach looked down at the pot in surprise. “Oh. It’s probably ready now. Let me cool it down.”  
  
“All right. So, how many songs have you had?”  
  
Peach didn’t answer right away. Instead, she chuckled to herself, like maybe I’d embarrassed her.  
  
“What’s wrong?” I asked.  
  
“It’s just so funny. We’re a couple now, so that’s the sort of question I should expect. But it still feels weird, no offense. I’ve had six.”  
  
I had to process that. “You mean it’s a personal question?”  
  
“Yeah. Back in Witherton, you don’t usually ask somepony about their songs unless you’re dating.”  
  
Huh. Way back when I’d first met her, Peach had asked whether her visiting my apartment would make people think she was my girlfriend. But now it turned out ponies had their own rules for who was involved with whom… so her question hadn’t been as innocent as it had seemed.  
  
“That’s fascinating. Can I ask what your songs were about?”  
  
She smiled slyly and glanced at the futon where we’d made love. “What do you think?”  
  
I felt really good. “I think yes.”  
  
She turned off the stovetop and started spooning lentil stew into bowls. “One was from when I heard about the portals opening and I found out I’d have the chance to come to Earth. That’s the one I’m the most proud of. It’s about whether I should come or not.”  
  
“That sounds great. Can I hear it?”  
  
“Sure! How about after dinner?”  
  
“Sounds good. What about the rest?”  
  
“My latest is from was when I’d just been here a few days. It was a really sad one, I was feeling lonely.”  
  
“Aww! I wish you’d never had to feel that way.” It was a really obvious thing to say, but she seemed glad when I said it.  
  
“It’s fine. Every song happens for a reason. It just made it all the more sweet when I met you.” She set my bowl and spoon in front of me on her ottoman, which she’d covered with a tablecloth. I took a seat on the other end of it.  
  
I smelled the stew again. “And the other four?”  
  
Peach was embarrassed again. “My first song was about how scared I was about going to school for the first time. I was five. I should have sung it privately, but I did it in front of my parents.”  
  
“That sounds really precious!”  
  
“It was pretty dumb but yeah, it meant a lot to me. My least important song was one I sang for my friend when she was having friendship problems. I was eleven. Then there’s one I sang about my first coltfriend, trying to sort out my feelings toward him. And finally, there’s a really long, slow, low one about etching.”  
  
That stirred my loins. “Ooh, I’ve got to hear that.”  
  
“I can’t reproduce it unless I’m actually working and getting into it. Plus, I either need a drum kit or I’ll use random things for drums.”  
  
“You’re just making me more excited to hear it.”  
  
Peach slurped the lentils off her spoon and sat up straight. “You know what we should do? We should go to a club.”  
  
“A club?”  
  
“There’s a club in Newark that has pony nights twice a month. George took me there. It’s called the Millennium.”  
  
“Millennium? Like the amount of time Luna was stuck on the moon?”  
  
“Or the Crystal Empire, yeah. I think it’s just a coincidence, but maybe that’s part of why ponies started coming. Anyway, they bring in pony groups and DJs two Fridays a month. The first and third. What’s today, the 15th?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Cool! Let’s go Friday. You can get a taste for how we ponies do music. But they play human songs too, so it’s a really neat blend.”  
  
I took a big bite of my lentils and got up to go around and put my hands on Peach’s back. “I think we’re a really neat blend.”  
  
She looked back at me. “Yeah!”  
  
Time to get something heavy off my mind. “You know, it’s silly for us to have two apartments if we’re just going to spend all our time together.”  
  
She looked surprised. “You think?”  
  
“Why pay for both? Unless you think you need your own place for alone time.”  
  
She gave me a silly smile. “What do I need alone time for? I’m as comfortable with you as I am all by myself. Maybe even more. But didn’t we promise to rent our apartments for a year?”  
  
“It’s called a lease, and mine is up at the end of the month,” I told her. “I can just move in here. I could bring up all my stuff!”  
  
Peach’s body language was all alight. “Then we’d have so much stuff!” she said excitedly.  
  
I grinned, rubbing her shoulders lightly. “You like stuff?”  
  
“What’s not to like? You can always get rid of it if you don’t like it. Does this mean you want to be my money manager?”  
  
It all felt so perfect. “Absolutely. It’ll be educational, too. I can take the chance to learn about finance. I’ll diversify your assets.”  
  
She twisted around sensually and grinned. “That is totally a double entendre.”  
  
“No it’s not,” I teased.  
  
“Yeah it is. I just haven’t figured it out yet.” She leaned up for a kiss, which I gave her.  
  
I passed my hands over her loin, her croup, all those amazing pony parts with funny names. She kept blissfully eating while I caressed her coat. “Should we start bringing up my stuff tonight?” I asked.  
  
“Yeah! Do you think we can carry everything ourselves?”  
  
“Aside from the bed, probably. But maybe we should get help.”  
  
“I bet Seaswell would help,” she suggested. “He’s so helpful!”  
  
“I can call my buddy Barrett,” I said. “He used to live here.”  
  
“So he has experience moving in and moving out,” Peach summed up.  
  
“Yeah,” I said tightly, rubbing her a little harder.  
  
“Pepper!” she chided. “Finish your dinner! I made it for you.”  
  
It wasn’t hard to let go because I knew I’d still have her whenever I wanted her. And she’d have me. As for the stew, it was delicious. The lentils were a little sticky and there was a little scorched carbon at the bottom, but that was fine. The dish tasted amazing and I knew it was healthy healthy healthy, just like everything around me.  
  
I went back to the beanbags and Peach joined me. We cuddled, cool bags contrasting with warm bodies.  
  
After dinner, Peach sang all her songs for me. The song about the portals opening up was passionate and full of rich doubt and dizzying dreams, getting faster and headier at the end. We talked about it for awhile. The song from when she was five made both of us laugh. The one about her first coltfriend was serious enough that I lay still for it, but I didn’t feel anything like jealousy. I knew he was long gone, and I even saw a little of myself in the lyrics. “What Have I Done” was what she called her lonely song from May, which made me feel heartbroken about my fellow humans and our civilization. But “We’ll Always Have Clouds” cheered me up, just like it had cheered up Peach’s best friend so many years ago.  
  
Finally, she grabbed a chunk of wood and a magnifying glass and started engraving, and I started a beat by clapping a couple pieces of wood together, and she gave me “Etching”. It was fifteen minutes long and it was amazing. I could have sworn there was a bass guitar thrumming under the sound of her voice, her magic and my drumming, but when I listened closely for it, it wasn’t there. The song went through half a dozen phases and exalted the art of burning as a means of creation, and when we were done, Peach had a block of wood with my picture on it. It was technically an engraving, not an etching, since it hadn’t involved any corrosive material, but the likeness was really flattering. I wanted to cry I was so happy.  
  
We got a start on carrying my stuff up—we traipsed loudly down the stairs and up again, singing and joking and not caring who heard us. We got through three loads before the magnetism of each others’ bodies won us over and we tumbled onto Peach’s futon, not even remembering to close the door.  
  
“How many songs has everyone in your family had?” I asked Peach breathily, still holding her with one arm.  
  
“My dad barely sings. He’s just got two. He had a duet with my mom when they got engaged, but she started it so it counts as one of hers.”  
  
“Who’s had the most songs of anyone in your family?” I rolled over in bed, clutching her and winning a squeal.  
  
“My Aunt Iggles! She’s so full of inspiration. She’s had at least fifty.”  
  
I relaxed and released Peach to her own devices, and she just crept up and lay on me. “Does anyone know how many songs the princesses have had?” I asked.  
  
She poked me playfully in the shoulder. “No one knows about Celestia or Luna. Luna said once she lost track of how many songs she had on the moon. But Cadance has had, let’s see, nineteen, and I don’t know how many Twilight’s had, but I think the show covered pretty much all the ones she had since she went to Ponyville.” She sprang off me, compressing my belly for a second. “It’s on the web! I know a site that keeps track.”  
  
So we sat together and peered at a list on FamousPonySongcounts.com. “Yep, that’s what I thought,” she said. “Rainbow Dash has the fewest of the Mane Six—just ten for her whole life. And most of those were about speed or daredevil tricks or how awesome she is. Kind of ironic, given that she was the bandleader in Rainbow Rocks, but that just goes to show the human writers didn’t nail everything when they weren’t writing in canon.”  
  
“But ten is still more than you’ve had,” I pointed out.  
  
“Yeah, well she’s famous!” replied Peach as if it were obvious.  
  
“Famous ponies sing more songs?”  
  
“Of course! They have more important things happen to them. Then again, I think most of Applejack’s songs are mostly nonsense. I think she sings them to pass the workday. Yep, she’s had thirty-one.”  
  
I picked a weird title from the list at random. “‘Bitel-betel-bottle-dun?’”  
  
“Yep, doesn’t mean anything. Here we’ve got Fluttershy with twenty-two songs, Rarity with fifty-three. But chances are Fluttershy’s had a bunch more on her own that she just didn’t tell anyone about.”  
  
“I can believe that. And according to this, Spike the Dragon has had over forty songs, but most of the lyrics are secret.”  
  
“Yeah, he sings about dumb kid stuff and doesn’t want anyone to hear it. At least we have most of the titles. ‘Wagging My Tail.’ ‘Basket On My Head’. ‘Ode To Smelly Feet’. Oh, that’s funny.”  
  
I chuckled. “And these really are songs that just come to him?”  
  
“You heard him massacre the Cloudsdale anthem at the Equestria Games, didn’t you? Did he sound like someone who could write songs on his own? So next we have Twilight, with only thirty-eight songs.”  
  
“Wow. She’s had fewer than her assistant.”  
  
“Well, she’s not the creative type, you know? And it’s more than Cadance. But yeah, that is an unusually low number for somepony so important.”  
  
“What about Pinkie Pie?” I asked, scrolling down. The list of her songs never seemed to end.  
  
“She’s crazy. She has songs for no reason and every reason. Yyyep, final tally two hundred thirty-six. And I don’t think she even reports a lot of them.”  
  
“It seems weird to think of ‘reporting’ songs.”  
  
“Well, for most of us, they’re a central experience in our lives. Not telling people you’ve had a song is like… not telling people you’ve had a kid, or getting your cutie mark and not saying anything about it.”  
  
“Or not telling your family you’re in love?” I asked.  
  
She pressed her lips together hard for a moment, but then grinned. “Yeah! Exactly.”  
  
“It must feel good,” I speculated.  
  
“Having a song, or telling people you’re in love? Making that blog post earlier did feel great, for the record. And now that I know humans don’t have songs the way we do, I’ve got a whole new blog post to write!”  
  
“But having a song must feel amazing too,” I said. “I wish I could have that happen to me.”  
  
Peach jumped off her chair. “Hey, you joined me on the Mister Rogers thing, didn’t you? Maybe if humans hang around ponies long enough, they can have songs too!”  
  
“But isn’t it magic?”  
  
She hesitated. “Maybe a little. But I’m starting to think humans can do magic.”  
  
“Really? As far as I can tell, magic is exactly what we can't do, but wish we could.”  
  
“You do things we can only dream of,” said Peach. “That’s magic too, isn’t it? Just a different kind.”  
  
“What things? Like building cars and TVs and things? That’s not magic, it’s just better technology.”  
  
“When Luna flies to the moon, that’s magic. But you guys have actually flown to the moon, too. Even though you don’t have any special connection with it like Luna does. So how is that not magic? Just because you can explain how you did it?”  
  
I hesitated, then smiled. “That sounds about right.”  
  
“But it was magic before anyone could think of how to do it, wasn’t it?”  
  
“I suppose!”  
  
“So something stops being magic when you figure out how to do it?”  
  
I shrugged, still smiling.  
  
“That's ridiculous.”  
  
I nodded. “Also about right.”  
  
Peach thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Nope. That’s not how it works. Humans can do magic, and we’re gonna get you to sing a song from your heart! The club on Friday’ll be a good start.”  
  
I stepped around her in a big circle and she turned to face me over and over. Then I knelt down and put my hand on her flank. “Tell you what. This human is going to use magic. I’ll use yours!”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I’ll tell you what to do, and you do it. Then I’ll be using magic, won’t I?”  
  
Peach’s puzzled look turned to excitement. “Yeah!”  
  
I moved her head gently toward the kitchenette. “Get me an ice cream bar from the fridge. Magic only!”  
  
Her electric blue glow opened the fridge door and settled the ice cream bar into my hand. “This feels like when I let Meg ride me at the ranch,” she observed contently.  
  
“There! I just used magic.”  
  
“You totally did. What next?”  
  
I winked. “Next, I need to know more about your etching powers.”  
  
She stretched up tall, her ears perking. “Do tell!”  
  
I tore open the ice cream bar and took a bite. “Well, for starters… does it have to leave a mark, or can you do it lightly enough to tickle?”  
  
Peach grinned the biggest, naughtiest grin I’d ever seen on her. “You know what? We’re gonna have to find out.”  
  
I nodded firmly. “I should think we are.”  
  
That night, her every touch was a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> It felt good to go back to writing a short chapter. And writing this chapter in particular was satisfying for obvious reasons. Happiness is fun to write--at least for me!
> 
> The idea of ponies being able to reprise their songs at will and keeping track of them as personal milestones is one I had early on in the story, and finally got to use. What moments in your life do you think might have warranted songs bubbling up in you if you were a pony? Would you have wanted them to?
> 
> I'm kind of hungry for lentils now.


	17. The Millennium

IT WAS the middle of the night. I was on the phone. “Ron?” asked my brother.

“Hi, Noam,” I murmured.

“You all right?”

The question made me feel warm. “I’m perfect. Thanks for asking.”

“You sound weird.”

“I just laid my pony friend. Things worked out. It’s all good between us.”

His voice was choked. “Well… congrats, man, but you know that’s sick, right? You know how sick that is?”

“It’s sick awesome,” I countered.

“You don’t lay a horse.”

“She’s not a goddamn horse, Noam, she’s a unicorn. A uni-fucking-corn. And she was amazing.”

“You sound like you’re on something, Ron. Are you high?”

“I’m under the spell of love. Nothing else.”

He breathed quietly for a while. “Okay. Ron, when you say the spell of love, do you mean, an actual, literal spell? I just want to be sure.”

My heartbeat picked up. I thought back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“This isn’t hard, Ron. I’m just asking if you’ve had a spell cast on you. You know, bad juju.”

I took a calming breath. “No,” I answered. “No, the only juju around here is good.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

The more I considered it, the more I grinned. I even chuckled.

“Ron?”

“Like I said, I’m perfect. Never better.”

“You sound like something’s up.”

“Yeah. I’m up late. I should get to bed. Goodnight, Noam.”

“Ron?”

Nice talking with you,” I said, and hung up the phone.

* * *

This is where things start to blend together. Up to this point in my story, I’ve made sure each time I spent with Peach was exactly one chapter, even if that meant making some chapters a lot longer than others. That means that the number of times I’d seen her was always the same as the chapter number… so, for example, when I took her to dinner at Laurie and Jack’s, it was our eleventh time together.

But that ends here. I couldn’t tell you how many times Peach and I saw each other over the course of that week. It all essentially blended into one big… life. She went off to her 9 to 5, and I worked shifts at the garden store that were a lot less regular. But whenever we were both home, we were together. Sometimes I’d go down to my place to pack stuff and carry it up, but it still felt like we were together even then.

I invited Barrett over on Wednesday to help us move the big stuff. Barrett’s a big guy—mostly muscle with a bit of fat. Shaved head and a Giants cap. He seemed impressed and a little confused at how thoroughly Peach and I had fallen for each other. He was polite to Peach (and to Seaswell, when he showed up), but didn’t show any interest in getting to know them—he was just there to move the furniture.

At one point, we were alone in my old apartment and he opened a dialogue. “Ron, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Sure. Why not? You mean moving in with Peach?”

“Yeah.”

His discomfort made me uncomfortable. “It’s just what I was looking for,” I assured him. “I needed to share rent with someone, and it doesn’t even feel crowded when I’m there with her.”

“Maybe not now,” he said thoughtfully. “But what about in six months? You’ll probably be sick of her by then, and it’s a _studio_ , Ron.”

I knew he was just concerned as a friend, but it was hitting harder than he probably intended. “I am _not_ getting sick of her, Barrett. I love her.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he mumbled, looking away for a moment. “All right, fine. It’s just—I’ve been in love like it looks like you are, more than once, and… I just hope the good times don’t run out sooner than you think.”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying,” I told him, shrugging. “But if they do, we’ll get by.”

“You sure?”

“Well, look. It’s this, or I move away. And I don’t want to move away.”

He eyed me as if he was trying to see through me, but he nodded a little and it grew into a normal nod. We went back upstairs with another load.

As for Seaswell, he was just excited about the whole thing. Not over-the-top excited—just a constant background happiness like you’d want a friend to have during a big change like this.

When we were done, the apartment was crammed full of furniture and strewn everywhere with hastily packed boxes, baskets and pillowcases. Barrett looked around thoughtfully, trying to find ways to stack things more efficiently. Peach, on the other hand, looked like she couldn’t be happier.

“It’s a little crowded in here,” observed Seaswell.

“That’s fine,” said Peach. “That just means we get to start thinking about what to get rid of!”

“Maybe you should have decided before we brought everything up,” said Barrett.

“But we don’t know what we want to keep until it’s all up here,” answered Peach. “We have to see what fits with the stuff I’ve already got and what feels like it’s in the way.”

Barrett shrugged. “All right. So what’re we doing now? Do ponies like pizza?”

“We love pizza!” exclaimed Seaswell as he carefully flapped over a chest of drawers on top of a table.

“Then let’s get pizza!” declared Peach. She hesitated and looked at me. “If my money manager says it’s okay, that is.”

I smiled. “Of course. Getting pizza is what you do after you move.”

“It is?”

“Pretty much, yep.”

Peach grinned the biggest grin. “That’s the coolest tradition!”

I turned to Barrett and Seaswell. “We’ll order from Tommy’s. You guys came over to help—you get to decide what goes on it.”

“I like green peppers,” volunteered Seaswell.

Peach tapped me on the side. “So if you eat pizza after you move, what do you eat at other times? Like, what if you’re a kid, like I was when I sang my first song, and you’ve just been to school for the first time ever? What do you eat then?”

At first her question seemed frivolous, but then I reflected. “Ice cream. Your parents take you out for ice cream.”

“ _Really?_ That’s so cool!”

“Ask me another one,” I said.

* * *

Thursday morning, I let the super know my plans. By Friday, I was totally settled in unit 412. Peach Spark wasn’t the pony who lived upstairs anymore. Now she was the pony who lived with me. I kept dwelling on how weird it was that this had happened. If I hadn’t spontaneously decided way back in May to bake my new neighbor that pineapple upside-down cake, my life would be totally different.

It was heady, being surrounded by so much stuff. I’d pull out a book and have a tray of washers and gaskets almost fall on me, or discover a picture of Peach’s sister while pawing through a drawer for socks. We’d decided to take our time thinning it out. Half of the things around me belonged to Peach, and looking through them was like looking at another part of her that I couldn’t normally see. I also liked getting to go through my own things and reminisce, especially if it gave me a chance to share them with her.

I called my mom and let her know I’d found someone to move in and share expenses with. I didn’t tell her it was a pony, and I kept better control of myself than that crazy night when I’d called Noam. But when she asked if it was a girl, I let my defenses down and said “Maaaybe...”

I think she was happy.

* * *

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I said from the kitchenette. The counters there were piled with boxes, the cupboards temporarily overstuffed with things that didn’t belong. I was making porridge for breakfast, loosely based on an Equestrian recipe Peach had gotten from one of her friends at the Turtlewood.

“I wish I actually made money from my blog so I could just blog full time,” said Peach from her swivel chair, staring at the computer screen. “I wonder if that’s a thing you can do. Oh hey, someone’s asking if we’ve had any arguments. We haven’t had any big ones, have we?”

I scoured my memory. “I think we might’ve yelled at each other once or twice. Don’t remember when.”

“Was it about the loan?”

“Um…” I strained to think back. “I think it was something at the VIP mixer with Cadance. I remember yelling.”

“That went haywire! Everyone was yelling.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Maybe not, then! When do you think we’ll have our first big fight?”

“I dunno. I kind of want to say ‘let’s just not’, but I guess everyone has a fight eventually, right?”

I grinned and tested the porridge’s consistency. “We could decide what we want it to be about.”

“Hey, good idea! What do you want to it to be about?”

“It should be something really dumb. Like, I dunno. Raisins.”

She laughed. “How are we supposed to fight about raisins?”

I turned off the heat. “Well, I put some in the porridge even though they weren’t in the recipe. You could yell at me for that. It’s done, by the way.”

“That actually sounds good. We’ll have to find something else raisin-related to fight about.” She was still sitting at the computer. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Someone’s asking me how I feel about ‘low grade mind control’. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No clue. Is there any context?”

“Not much. It just seems like…” She trailed off and scrolled down. “Oops, I was afraid of that. There’s commenters comparing our relationship to bestiality.”

“Oh god. Can we just ignore them?”

“It’s not bad stuff. I mean, they’re not saying we’re disgusting for being together, they’re just asking questions. Like, how do you get over the fact that I’m basically a horse?”

I felt emotions stirring—anger? “You’re not really much like a horse, you know. Not in the ways that matter.”

“Yeah, but they’re saying it’s not about horses in particular. It’s just… I guess it’s that I’m supposed to be ‘The Other’ to you, whatever that means, and you’re not supposed to love ‘The Other’.”

“Screw ‘em. We can love whoever we want.”

I actually felt a twinge of doubt, but she was bolstered by my confidence. “Yeah! I’m gonna poke holes in their logic. In terms of inspiration, I’m half horse, half human, so I’m not really an Other at all. Just half-Other.” Her hoof moved the mouse while her magic pounded the keyboard.

I filled a bowl with porridge and brought it to her. “I wish I was working today too. It’d be better than waiting for you here.”

“You’ve got cleaning to do!” She blew on the porridge to cool it down. “When I get back, I want this place to feel different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t care. I just want you to put your stamp on it.” She took a bite. “Organize some stuff, say this spot is for this and that spot is for that, whatever. Just make it feel like a cool new place for me to come back to. And bit by bit, we’ll get it cleaned up.”

I kissed her on the neck. “I love you.”

“You’d better. I’m taking you out tonight!”

* * *

The Millennium wasn’t exactly one of those secret in-the-know clubs with a nondescript door tucked into some warehouse or office complex. It was visible and thoroughly audible from a distance. We’d made our way some distance from the bus station across broad, busy streets lined with a textured mix of commercial establishments and anonymous buildings, built high and low. Then we saw it, right on the street, boasting a blue and purple neon sign whose horizontal lines vaguely suggested a timeline. The music booming out was canned but powerful—it was hard rock but I didn’t recognize the artist. A black street easel featured a big chalk drawing of a pony’s face in sunglasses, and underneath, the words, “PONY NIGHT. =No Cover for Ponies!=” Beneath that was a list of the acts: MC Ice, Perfect Pet, Torchsong, Rhododoomdron. None of which I’d heard of.

In front of the club was a man with his hands wrapped up in cloth strips to the point his fingers weren’t even visible. He was doing tricks--picking up beanbags and juggling them a little, screwing a screw into a board with a screwdriver held between his swaddled fists, building towers of big foam blocks. It was a circus-style act of a man doing things as if he had pony hooves. He even had a curly blue pony wig on.

“Wow. That man is weird,” said Peach.

“I think his hands are done up like hooves,” I observed. Other people, some ponies included, were pausing on the street to watch the performer.

“So he’s making fun of ponies?” asked Peach, incensed.

“I think he’s showing off. By doing things without using his fingers.”

“Huh.” Peach watched for a while, a conflicted look on her face.

“Can you do stuff without using your magic?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, sure. Everyone gets taught that kind of thing in school. Not all unicorns can levitate, and sometimes you’re just out of magic, you know? So yeah, everypony learns.”

“It’s pretty amazing to us, you know. That anyone can be that dexterous without fingers.” They’d shown that pony legs, and especially the part called the “cannon”, which corresponded to the human hand, were much more flexible than in Terran horses, so that ponies could bend the ends of their front legs around to grasp things, albeit loosely. Scientists believed it had evolved naturally, but were still piecing together the story of how. And then there was the amazing Equestrian sense of balance. And their even more amazing aim. How they could lay out an ‘armload’ of objects and have them land just right, or kick a tree and have its apples land perfectly in baskets set around it.

“Eh. A lot of things are amazing. Life itself is pretty amazing,” said Peach.

“And you say ‘eh’ about that? ‘Eh’ is what you have to say?”

She batted at me. “I’m just saying, I’ve had my whole life to get used to amazing stuff. It’s the stuff that’s more normal that amazes me these days.”

I thought about that. Then I put a dollar in the man’s bucket, paid my cover charge and walked inside.

 

* * *

  


The club wasn’t crowded yet, but it was already obvious it was pony night. They outnumbered us humans about two to one, with the margin getting bigger. I was no expert on nightclubs, but to me it felt like a pretty typical arrangement. We were in a big main area with plenty of danceable space. In the back right corner was a DJ station set kittycorner to the room’s walls. There was a stage along the rest of the back wall. On the left wall was a bar, already glowing fluorescent even though a few streams of daylight were still coming in through the little windows high on the walls. There was a second level made of numerous balconies, and under them were sofas and chairs.

Since the outing was Peach’s idea, I let her lead the way. Instead of retreating to a sofa or one of the balconies like I would have done, though, she struck out immediately onto the dance floor and started introducing herself to everyone, especially the other ponies. I was learning just how big an extrovert Peach was capable of being when she wasn’t shy. I followed along and let her introduce me, putting in a word here and there where I could. Even though the night’s acts hadn’t begun yet, the recorded music was still way too loud for me, and I had a little trouble keeping up with topics of conversation.

Then came the sound of a microphone. It was held by a man in a black and gray suit who stood confidently at center stage. “Fillies and gentlecolts, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Pony Night at the Millennium!” The growing crowd surged and clomped the floor heavily enough I felt off-balance. “Just a few things before I start us off—we have wheatgrass juice and smoothies at the bar, and a wide selection of juices, as well as Merry’s Magic Punch, on top of our normal selection of spirits, beers and wines. If you’re into techno, come back tomorrow for Brash Man, laying it down from eight o’clock on, and Sunday night we’ve got DJ Waxbar spinning Kicker and Steel Hand Crew all night, with half-price on all tequila and Jäger shots. All right! With no further ado, I give you good folks your Master of Ceremonies for the evening… Mr. MC Ice!”

He flung an arm toward the DJ station, and a pair of big white wings slowly rose from behind it as if the equipment were ascending to heaven. Suddenly a sizable stallion coursed straight up, bursting from behind the station along with an explosion of delicious rainbow colors that reached the far walls. The crowd roared; he landed and grinned. Two or three electronic instruments, including a snappy drum line, started up and the MC began to rap.

 _Ponies in the club \ Ponies in the club \ Better listen up \ There’s a better way \ Gonna show you how it’s done_  
 _Ponies in the club \ Ponies in the club \ Put your ears up! \ There’s a better way \ Gonna show you how it’s done_

MC Ice walked through the dance crowd, followed by various ponies stepping to the beat.

“ _I got friends, yo!_ ” His huge white wings rose and loomed, and I realized they were decorated with dozens of tiny gems that sparkled when the revolving light caught them. “ _Wall-to-wall packed, slammin’ dudes and chicks full of grace and tact, my friendship’s juice which is why I’m jacked, if friends were curves, my caboose’d be stacked, got no better use for my opening act than to call ‘em out, quick and loose, now check this fact!_ ”

He pointed dramatically to an earth pony with a huge satchel loaded with who-knew-what, accessories sticking out—a blue stallion with an explosion of frizzy pink for a mane.

 _Big Bobby in the crowd with his big mane, Bobby Pins, gonna do you up somethin’ insane. Makeover, takeover, up another octane, big pink hair for a big pink brain frame! Flouncin’ pretty on the floor, what’s that huge flare? Giving you a scare—just another flume of fly hair! Courtesy of Mr. Pins, sculptor in his element, pumpin’ out the pigment, something new to celebrate. Pins, tiny shims, brushin’ up against your skin, ticklin’ down around the rims of your glasses, special unexpected things. Better watch yourself, straight-hair, don’t be out there poutin’, or he’ll take whatever you’re floutin’ and he’ll make it a flowing fountain or a huge and mighty mountain! You’ll go home with whole ecologies thrivin’ in your tresses! Now that’s an outing, an’ there’s no doubting: Mr. Bobby Pins impresses!_

Bobby Pins gawked for the crowd and held up a hoof full of pins in a way the man outside with bound hands never could have managed. MC Ice then flapped his wings to slide over the floor as if he were skating and pointed up at a brown and purple middle-aged mare with a feather hat. His next verse started out quick and tight but eventually broke the beat, slipping into freestyle.

 _Take a peek, on the balcony, standin’ full of dignity, daycare leader Claramelt! Watch it or she’ll get her belt. Always with a fine touch, not too little, not too much, be a crippled filly’s crutch, fillin’ lives with love an’ such. Never gonna meet a better youth role model, gonna take away your phantoms, gonna wean you off the bottle. Turnin’ colts into stallions and fillies into mares, ‘cause she does what she dares ‘cause she genuinely cares! Integrity and chastity, this mare would be a blast to be, and it don’t take no math to see her life’s a buckin’ tapestry! And yeah, she’s got a vast beauty. And you may a master be, a pony dastardly at seduction fast and free, but if you come at her no matter your patter, no matter how dapper you might be, dressed no matter how snappily, you’ll still come off sappily, ‘cause Miss Claramelt sees what’s happening and the mare’s married happily!_

There was a big messy cheer as Claramelt doffed her gigantic hat. But Ice wasn’t done with her:

 _No one better at letting the go-getters down easy, though, think she’s gonna make you queasy? No! You may be a sleazy bro but when she turns you_ down _it’ll be like you’re king of the town, like her sympathetic smile’s a crown—imagine how it feels to the lucky fool she keeps around!_

The mare’s husband, with a tall grin, waved to the crowd. And it went on like that, verse after verse of the MC calling out ponies he knew, overflowing with complimentary descriptions and emphatic respect. The crowd loved it. Peach was into it and I had to admit I was, too. I’d never been much of a fan of rap, but this stuff was refreshing.

 _Ponies in the club \ Ponies in the club \ Newark listen up \ There’s a better way \ Gonna show you how it’s done_  
 _Ponies in the club \ Ponies in your club \ Put your ears up! \ There’s a better way \ Gonna show you how it’s done_

At the end of the song, MC Ice lowered himself from the ceiling slowly (and only a little bit jerkily) with huge flaps of his wings. “ _I got bits, I got bling, I got cred, I got verse, but if you think I got attitude you best disperse, ‘cause any of y’all could make just as much purse, you got so much personality you’re fit to burst, and that’s the way it should be, ‘cause the truth is nice guys finish_ first. _Power of ponies, yo._ ” As he started hitting switches, the music flared out and a slow electric noise rose along with dazzling blue-white lights, and the tone became the background to the next song.

The crowd’s applause rolled like waves, and the music became the backdrop to a dreamlike room full of strange faces. The weirdness of ponies, of the very idea that these made-up creatures actually had turned out to be _real_ , flowed suddenly and sharply back into me. I turned and staggered in a mixture of wonder and fear while the electronica simmered.

Peach tapped me on the shoulder. She tapped with nothing—just two bursts of her magic. Why did it feel like fingertips? “You all right?”

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” I admitted.

“You want to go up?” She nodded to the nearest balcony. “We can try to get out of the way.”

I shook my head. “You’re having fun down here, right? We should stay—the show just started.”

“I want you to be comfortable,” she said.

I gave in. We walked up the metal frame stairs—for me it felt more like a trudge—and I found a couch to slump on. There were some people around—mostly ponies in clothes that looked outlandish just then—but they didn’t seem too interested in me. Our little upstairs corner was poorly lit, though there were some magenta and green circles glowing here and there on the ceiling.

Peach sat next to me. “Are you gonna be all right?”

“Yeah, probably. Sorry. I’m not a nightclub guy. I thought having it be ponies would make it easier, but I think it’s actually worse this way.”

She frowned—I could feel her disapproval. “You don’t like being around so many ponies at once?”

“I just feel really out of place.” Even though I liked the music, I could feel a headache brewing.

Peach kissed me. On the cheek. I closed my eyes and felt the headache starting to melt away. “You want a drink? I can go and get you something.”

I considered. “Yeah. Better do that. Why don’t you make it one of those fun cocktails? Just make sure it’s leaded.”

“Leaded?”

“You know. That there’s actually something alcoholic in it.”

“Oh. Okay.” She slipped away.

It didn’t feel bad, just lying there alone, letting Peach be my errand girl. There were some people across from me, three ponies and a stocky black guy, fiddling with each others’ accessories and chatting quietly but not-so-quietly in that way that hints at gossip or scandal. I just lay there, not trying too hard to make out their words.

Eventually two of them left for the stairs. A banana yellow stallion and the black guy were left, looking at me. The unicorn stallion was wearing purple shades and velour to match. The black guy had a design shaved into his short hair and a dark green jacket with highlights of silver. There was one strawberry pink drink on the table in front of them. Two straws.

“She your girl?” asked the man.

I was disoriented for a moment before I realized he was asking about Peach. “Huh? Yeah. She’s my girl.”

“You been together long?”

I blinked. “No. Not too long. Less than a week. Maybe longer, depending how you count.”

The stallion grinned—he had gold caps, I was horrified to note. “She’s getting you a drink? That’s good. You should keep her.”

A little of the quease in me sifted away. “She gets a lot better than that.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” said the man. “You doin’ all right?”

I tried to shake the pendulous sense I was in the wrong place. “I think I just need to take it easy,” I said.

“You on anything?”

I had to remind myself it was a reasonable question, make an effort not to get offended. “No. Just never been to a pony night before. I hardly ever go to clubs anyway.”

The stallion leaned forward and drank from the pink cocktail through one of the straws. “You’ll feel better once you go out and dance,” he advised.

“Naw, leave him alone,” objected the man. “He’s pooped. You pooped?” he asked me.

I was amused by the fact I didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t think so. It just feels weird here. Bit of a headache.”

“Sorry, man. You want us to leave you alone?”

“He just needs to talk,” diagnosed the stallion.

The man baffed him playfully with the back of a hand. “He needs his rest!”

The pony champed at him, apparently also in play. “No one here needs to rest!”

I rubbed my face. “Yeah, actually, he’s right,” I told the black guy. “I think I just need to talk a little. Get used to being here.”

“See?” said the yellow stallion.

The guy rubbed his companion’s mane. “Yeah, all right.” He looked at me. “We’ll be glad to talk. Wanna make you feel better. What you wanna talk about?””

I wanted to ask if they were a couple, actually. But that was _not_ going to be my conversation opener. “You guys come to Pony Nights a lot?”

“Every one,” said the stallion. “It’s a taste of home.”

I asked him why he was here in Newark instead of back at home, which turned out to be Manehattan. He was doing commercials, he told me. He had an agent booking him as the ‘cool pony’ in ads for everything from credit cards to shampoo. It cost too much to go back and forth through the portal, or to live in the Big Apple, so here he was in Brick City. While we were chatting, Peach showed up with my drink.

“I got you something called Sex on the Beach. I hope it doesn’t—oh hey, you made some friends!”

“Hey Peach. This is Dango, and Maza.” Pony and human, respectively.

“Hi! I’m Peach Spark.” She peered at them. “…Are you gay or something?”

Wow. Under other circumstances, I might have laughed, albeit nervously. At the time, I was too cowed by my environment to muster a reaction. The two of them were scowling, though.

“As a matter of fact,” said Dango, while Maza stayed silent.

“Oh neat!” said Peach. This seemed to alleviate the tension. “I hardly ever met anyone gay before, and I _also_ never met another pony-human couple!” She swished her tail.

“Well,” said Maza. After a hesitation, he extended his hand, and Peach shook it. “Guess you’re in luck.”

“There’s a few in the scene,” said Dango.

“Other mixed couples? Really?” asked Peach. “Any here tonight?”

“Don’t think so,” said Maza. “But come on, let’s get you with our friends.” He stood up to lead us away, and we followed.

By ‘get you with’, he meant ‘introduce you to’, thankfully. It turned out these guys had actually come in a group of seven. There were a human couple and three other ponies with no clear relationship status, but who clearly had a lot of complex relationships. We all milled around the railing, watching the goings-on below and chatting about random stuff.

Peach seemed better at jumping into their world than I was. I heard her ask a lot of questions without context. “No wait, this guy, does he work at the loading dock? Or is he with the shipping company?” “Are you saying she got her ears pierced _just_ to come here?” “What? Is that even normal on Earth or are we talking some _really_ weird nonsense?”

I kept most of my attention on the crowd and the music. Mostly the crowd. About half the ponies were wearing nothing at all, but I saw a lot of facepaints and even body paints—ponies with wavy stripes, concentric circles, even pictures like griffons on their flanks. How did they make those, I wondered—some kind of dye paintbrush? There were necklaces too, and anklets, and various other bangles. Then there were the ponies in tank tops, shifts, croptops, oversized shirts, blazers… even a few in what looked like classic evening wear. On the extreme end, I saw one pony couple dressed up as Princess Platinum and Commander Hurricane.

Suddenly, my whole view was shrouded in bright, dazzling light. MC Ice was standing on top of his table, wings outstretched to the limit, with beams of light shining through the feathers and picking up colors from the gems embedded in his wings. A noise of admiration rose from the crowd. Things really got trippy when strobe entered the mix, along with a pounding deep bass that was like a color in itself.

Maza laughed aloud. I watched in wonder and drank my Sex on the Beach through a straw. I’d never had one before—in other settings, I’d be afraid of getting made fun of with such a girly cocktail. Here, somehow, that didn’t seem like a danger.

Ice finished doing his thing and the music flared to a close. The lights came up again—not bright, but hospitable. “Friends, I like your spirit tonight,” he said through a microphone. “What do you say we give our human fans a chance to tell us what they think of us? Fair?” There was a lot of floor clomping. “All right, fair!” he declared. Gesturing to the stage area not far from his own table, he announced: “Bringing to life the animal in you… it’s Perfect Pet!!”

The six human beings who took the stage were wearing costumes—well, partial costumes. The guy in front had a huge pair of bunny ears. There was a guy with a big turtle shell strapped on, another with an alligator snout…

“We are Perfect Pet!” shouted the bunny guy. “We are the perfect pet for you. Take us home! Care for us! Feed us! Give us love!”

“Give us love!” echoed the others, a couple girls among them.

The crowd clomped enthusiastically. “You won’t be sorry you did!” concluded the bunny dude, whereupon they broke into a loud distinct alternative rock song probably called “A Pet of My Own.” The dancing had stopped—now everyone milled around or listened.

“Hey.” Peach nudged me.

I smiled. “Yeah?”

“Is this song about sex?”

I listened to the lyrics. “It’s about the joys of having a pet,” I told her beatifically.

“Well, yeah, but. Isn’t it about sex too?”

I played innocent. “How should I know?”

“You’re a human! You know how humans write songs.”

I grinned and fuzzled her mane. “Yeah, it’s about sex too. Good catch.”

She beamed, but quickly got serious as she went back to listening.

Near the end of the first song, I realized what Perfect Pet’s deal was. They were dressed as the pets of the Mane Six. And during their next patter segment, we learned that they liked playing around with it. The girl with doggy ears spoke with a fake country accent. The guy with big owl spectacles and a feather headband pretended to be all wise when he wasn’t doing a “Hoo?” schtick. And the prematurely balding guy playing Gummy… well, he didn’t say much, but when he did, it was really cool.

They played mostly their own material, but they also covered Hey Ocean’s “Big Blue Wave” and Glaze’s “Cutting Out”, based on the Kij Johnson story I’d finally gotten around to reading that spring. Then came a more electronic song (with Tank on synth and Angel on vocals) that got Peach’s attention. The lyrics were about being lost on a foreign shore, following a path toward the light but being attacked by the darkness. (I later learned it was by some artist called FraGmenTd.) Peach seemed absorbed by it.

“This song could be about me,” she said.

“I think it’s about Trixie,” I said.

“Human songs can be about two things,” she countered, leaning over the railing.

“Glad you’ve figured that out,” I allowed her.

All the while, I kept scanning the crowd for interesting costumes and behavior, but what I spotted made my stomach lurch. Just for a moment—then I was fine. “Look,” I said, pointing.

Peach looked. “It’s George!”

“I almost didn’t recognize him in the pink striped shirt.”

“He was in paisley when he brought me. Four big unbuttoned cuffs. I think he blends right in this way.”

“Heh.” We watched him stroll about, occasionally striking up a conversation. It was way too long before I asked: “Should we go down and say hi?”

Peach looked at me in surprise. She seemed to be fighting her own brain—not too surprising in a place like this. “Yeah, I guess we should!” she finally decided.

We excused ourselves from our new acquaintances and headed down. It was a mess down there, a joyful, crowded mess. Just getting from one point to another was a challenge, with new weird-looking ponies (and humans) looming up every few seconds. George wasn’t where we’d remembered seeing him. Then Peach tapped my shoulder and pointed at the round tables under one of the balconies. He was enjoying a drink there, chatting with a dark purple earth mare in sparkly blue spandex.

We made our way over. “George!” exclaimed Peach, stepping forward.

He spun on his stool, taken aback. “Peach! And the sergeant.” I could tell from his eyes that he didn’t know how to react. “Didn’t think I’d run across you here.”

“Why not? You brought me here last time, remember?”

His eyes flitted to his companion and back. “Suppose I figured we were done with, Peach. You never replied to my e-mail, or the comment I left you, or even the note I dropped in your box.”

Peach was mortified. “George, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even realize you’d left a note or an e-mail. I haven’t been checking my mail. I’ve been so busy!”

He took a deep breath. “Peach, Pepper, this is Spaceburst. Space, you won’t mind if I go aside with these two for a minute, will you?”

The mare’s grinning white teeth were disconcerting against the darkness of her coat. “Nah, go for it!”

We moved deeper under the stairs until I had to duck my head. I pulled over a chair.

“Peach,” said George, “it hurt that you didn’t get in touch. It was a blow. I always knew it might work out this way,” and he nodded my way, “but I figured you’d be decent enough to tell me how the stones had fallen.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Peach. “I’m sorry, George.”

“You know, our time at the Met felt fairly special. I thought so, anyhow. Perhaps I was mistaken. But I certainly didn’t think it’d be the last time we spent together.”

I saw her head jerking, like it wanted to start spinning. “It was a really good time! I thought so too!” Only then did I realize I’d never asked Peach about her museum date with George.

“And yet, half a week later, with no noise from you in the meantime, I pull up the blog and find an entry on this chap that’d make a princess jealous.” Again he indicated me. “Leaving no doubt whatsoever where your heart lies.”

Peach was struggling, so I jumped in. “It was kind of sudden,” I acknowledged.

“So I gather. What’d you do, Pepper? Buy her a diamond ring?”

I didn’t know what to tell him. “No… I guess we just clicked.”

George stared skeptically. Then he turned back to Peach. “Peach, we had a kiss. A good one. Are you telling me _we_ didn’t click?”

“I don’t know, George. I’m—I was really fond of you, I mean I still am, but…” She looked helplessly at me, but I was at just as much of a loss.

“I don’t mean to be sour on it all,” said George. “I’ve lost in love before, and it’s your life to lead. But I don’t think I ever had a girl leave me without taking the time to break up. Especially not after a kiss like that.”

I was trying to remember the timetable of my romance with Peach: whether it really had played out like George said. But my head was foggy and I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t think of anything to tell him.

Peach flung her forelegs over George’s shoulders and held him sadly. “I did see your comment on the blog but I forgot to answer it. I meant to say sorry. I just couldn’t think how to answer at the time, and then it slipped my mind.” She nodded toward me. “Pepper just moved in. It’s been hectic.”

He looked sharply at me. “You’re sharing quarters with her already?”

I nodded. “It was the sensible thing to do,” I said quietly.

George shook his head and gently pushed Peach off. “Something doesn’t stack up. That’s all I have to say. I’ve seen mysteries in my time, and this ranks with them.”

Neither Peach nor I could answer that. We moved back and stood together, looking at George. “I’m sorry,” Peach repeated.

He was silent a moment. “Think nothin’ of it,” he eventually said, but his tone was still hurt. “Just tell me—did you enjoy meeting the Princess of Love?”

Peach nodded. “We had a good time.”

“Yeah,” I added.

He looked between us for a few moments, then nodded. “All right, then. I guess that’s that. Be seeing you sometime, I suppose.”

“Be seeing you, George,” said Peach.

He looked suddenly back at me. “Sergeant. I don’t suppose you’ve worked out what your cutie mark would be, have you?” I tried to change mental gears and come up with an answer, but he cut me off. “No, I didn’t think so. Fine, then. Carry on.” He waved us off.

We stood together on the edge of the dance floor, surrounded by bodies and motion. “It is kind of weird how you didn’t think to write him,” I remarked.

She put a leg around my waist, clinging to me. “I didn’t wanna.”

I stooped to return the hug. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Too sad.”

We slow-danced through a couple songs meant for anything but slow dancing. Perfect Pet finished with a metal remix of “May the Best Pet Win” and left stage to great acclaim. MC Ice said a few final words about them, blew a kiss to the plus-sized girl in cat ears, then introduced a cream-colored earth mare with huge hair and a wide-brimmed ladies’ hat for a cutie mark.

“Got a special treat for you, clubbers! I wish I could bring you Rarity and Fluttershy to hang with you, but they’re bigshots with big lives to lead! So I’m proud to introduce the next best thing—their musical colleague and a brilliant musical mind in her own right… Torch Soooong of the Pony Toooones!”

“Nice to see you, Newark!” greeted the mare with a huge wave. “It’s always a thrill to cross the portal and live on the other side a while.” Pause for mild applause. “I know, you may be wondering—how is an _a capella_ singer like Torch Song gonna bring down the house?” A few whoops amid uncertainty. In demonstration, she pressed a hoof pedal and we heard her again exclaiming: “Nice to see you, Newark!” Another press, and the sing-songy greeting was on loop. Torch Song added a counterpoint: “I hope you’re doing fine!” And we were off.

Torch Song’s act was a lot gentler than what had come before, and Peach and I actually found it more danceable. Ice backed her up with drum lines for some songs, and for a few she sang along to prerecorded tracks. Given that about half her numbers were just her belting out a tune, she held the room surprisingly well.

I was particularly impressed by her covers of “The Twilight Will Rise” by Turquoise Splash and “Grazing in the Grass,” a jazzy song from the 60’s that seemed especially apt coming from a dancing pony’s mouth. My favorite original was a song about Ponyville life that was a lot snarkier and funnier than Twilight Sparkle’s “Morning in Ponyville”.

By the time Torch Song finished her set with the inevitable “Find the Music in You”, we were back on the balcony with our new ‘friends’, listening to them go off on everything under the sun. Dango wandered over and asked how things had gone downstairs with the guy we’d recognized.

We exchanged a nervous glance. “Kind of awkward,” said Peach.

“He kind of had a point,” I added.

“Was he after one of you?” asked the gold-capped pony.

“Uh…”

“Yeah, me,” said Peach. “I mean, we were going out for a while.”

“Yeah?” asked Maza, listening in. “How serious was it?”

Peach looked uncomfortably at me. “Well, we were starting to talk about where he was traveling next. And whether I’d go with him.”

This was news. “That seems pretty serious,” I said.

She cringed. “We even talked about how I was going to break it to you.”

“Harsh!” said Dango. “But somehow you ended up with this guy anyway?”

Peach blushed. “Yep!”

“How’d that go down?” asked Maza.

“You know how it went down,” Dango interjected, looking back at him with a wink. “It’s that human magnetism. Gets you every time.” Back to Peach. “Am I right?”

“I guess so!” said Peach. But she didn’t sound too sure.

Below, Torch Song waved and bowed and MC Ice bid her a fond farewell. “Say hi to Rarity for me—we go way back,” he told her.

“Suuure you do.”

“ _Way_ back.”

“Eyyyup.”

“Say hi to Big Mac too. All right, friends, here to take us home is one of the real powerhouses of pony rock. Straight from Beantown, Equestria—it’s RHODODOOMDRON!!”

“All right! I been looking ahead to this,” said Maza.

I could see why. Rhododoomdron was a five-piece hard rock band made up of ponies that were mostly pink or purple. Those whose manes didn’t match the color scheme were wearing lavish wigs. They got right to pounding the house, and MC Ice wasted no time throwing up mirror wheels that sent scintillating colors all over the place. Where the lighting during his own set had been dark, now it was like a bright, freewheeling day.

We had a great time. The group we were with finally went down and joined the action, which was more like gentle moshing than dancing. Being taller than all the ponies (except a handful of big ones when they reared up), I felt kind of like a gentle giant.

A pegasus member of the band flew overhead and tossed a bunch of fake feather boas into the crowd. Thanks to my long arms and a bit of luck, I got one. I gave it to Peach, which won me a kiss. Maza pledged to get a boa for Dango if it would get him a kiss, too. I think he managed it eventually.

A few songs later, the frontstallion turned to the bassist and asked, “Hey Grassy?”

“Yeah, Blossom?”

“I noticed your bass work was a little unusual on that song!”

“Well, Blossom, that’s what we call a ‘walking bass line’. It’s where you move from one bass chord to the next with an intermediate step, instead of jumping straight there.” He demonstrated the line from the song.

“That’s fascinating, Grassy! I’ll have to listen for it next time.”

“You should, Blossom!”

This was the third time they’d paused between songs to explain a musical term. A little drunk by now, I suddenly realized they were doing something quintessentially Equestrian: giving us vocab lessons!

“Am I missing something about this schtick?” I asked Peach. “Or are they actually taking time out just to teach us new words?”

“Of course! Everypony does that.”

“Everypony? Not just bands?”

“Sure! How is anyone supposed to learn how to talk if you don’t teach each other the words you know?”

Friendship is Magic’s educational/informational standards came to mind. “Well, you learn the hard words in school, I guess.”

“Are you kidding? You have to go to school around here just to learn to talk?”

“Well… or pick them up from reading, I guess? But… you don’t share words with me.”

Peach whacked me harmlessly with her tail. “Sure I do! Remember how I taught you what a silkscreen is the other day?”

“Oh yeah! So you were just performing a civil service?”

“Sure! Grown-ups don’t do it as much with each other ’cause there aren’t as many words we don’t know anymore. But you’ve got to keep learning from each other!”

“You know, I agree!”

After grooving for a while, we decided to take a break at the bar. Peach finally indulged and drank half a hard lemonade. I took a chance and tried out the specialty Pony Night drink, Merry’s Magic Punch. (According to legend, it was invented eighty thousand years ago by the original ancestral alicorn, Merry Sue.) It tasted bold and fruity. Supposedly it was supposed to make you feel more magical, but I had trouble telling if it managed that task any better than booze in general.

Maza and Dango joined us and we all chilled for a while. We learned that ‘Maza’ is short for ‘Mazerati’, and ‘Dango’ for ‘Fandango Fire’. They dished about how they’d met at another local nightclub. Dango had been humiliated too many times, so instead of approaching anyone, he just started putting out signals that he was available, gay, _and_ looking for interspecies love. I wanted to ask how in the world one manages to do that, but I was too shy. Maza had been sharp enough to pick up on it all, anyhow, and their first night had been an eye-opener for both.

Then Peach asked about the Newark scene, and Maza started to talk about some of the craziest parties he’d been to.

“That’s nothing,” said Dango, catching my eye. “I’ve partied with Berry Punch.”

Maza leaned back. “He’s gonna do this now.”

“Seriously?” asked Peach. “Berry Punch? When?”

“Icecracking festival, Bullion Town, Year 3. I went in the ice gazebo and noticed her. You can’t _not_ notice her. You’ve heard ‘life of the party’? Well, she’s the blood of the party. She’s the juice. She gives it flavor.”

“She can’t be better than Pinkie Pie,” said Peach.

“Pinkie Pie?” Dango took a swig of his ginger ale highball. “She’s for kids. Might be the best partier in the world, overall. But the best partier for adults? Berry Punch, hooves down.”

“What does she do?” I asked.

He peered at me. “If I could tell you, she wouldn’t be the best. Unpredictability. That’s what makes a good party great. After that ice gazebo, I followed her all night. She came up with this game where we’d… tip our drinks into the ice sculptures, just enough to make a little saddle of liquid. Sounds like the dumbest thing in the world when I say it, but she made it amazing. My drink, mingling with yours in the cold…” He shivered, and Maza leaned forward to pat him heavily. “Every place she went, she took control, and didn’t even make it look like she was trying.”

“What if she was here?” Peach asked with a smile.

Dango gestured to the dance floor. “She’d probably be everywhere. Surfing the crowd, flirting with all the stallions without really flirting. Shouting ‘Free Bird’ after every song, chatting it up with the DJ, lying on his table. Shouting ‘Heads up!’ and leaping from the balcony. Betting people she can too drink the whole thing.”

“Drink the whole what?”

“Don’t matter. Anything. Someday I’m gonna party with her again.”

“And this time, you’ll be ready,” said Maza.

“Damn straight.”

Peach looked a little troubled. “You talking about going back to Equestria?”

He gave her a serious look. “You think I could stay here year-round?” He waved his leg expansively. “Slushy-ass winters, hooligans everywhere? I’m aiming to spend half the year back in Manehattan and half doing television on this side.” He gave Maza a quick squeeze. “Got this chump to keep me company for that part.”

Peach looked at Maza. “But aren’t you going to miss him when he’s gone?”

Maza smiled wanly. “We’ve got our arrangement.”

“Are you getting homesick?” I asked Peach. If I hadn’t been tipsy, I wouldn’t have dared.

She looked at me seriously and swallowed. “I’m always homesick. But I’ve got work to do here. And besides, you can’t come with me.”

“Wish I could go to ponyland,” said Maza. “That civilization you guys got, that shit is _tight._ ”

“I know, right?” said Dango. “But I’m glad to get out for awhile, just the same. Sometimes you got to loosen up.”

I felt my heart beating. I pulled Peach back onto the dance floor, and she laughed.

It was the middle of one of Rhododoomdron’s long songs. “All right!” yelled the frontman. Frontstallion. Whatever. “You still got your boas? I want those in the _air!_ Unicorns, if you can levitate at all, put those boas in the air and keep ‘em there!”

Within moments, the middle altitude of the Millennium was filled with colorful boas and even more colorful auras of magic. High-pitched squeals rose from the audience. Peach and Dango both concentrated on maintaining the floating sea of fluff. Peach crouched a little, Dango arched up tall.

“Beautiful! Okay! Next, I want to hear the beat… flowing out of Grassy’s bass and coming back to us. Can you do that? Every pegasus in the house—I want to hear your wings flapping on the downbeat! I want to _feel_ your wings on the downbeat!”

We felt it—it was like a hurricane was coming. A musically talented hurricane.

“Earth ponies! Clomp the floor on the upbeats! Like this!”

Now the hurricane was fighting against an encroaching earthquake.

“Beautiful! Okay, put your wings down, put the boas down, it don’t matter your race, we’re all one! But I want to hear just the mares now. Just the mares, clomping on the beat!”

The boas fell back into the crowd. This time I just watched them.

“Now just the stallions!” _Kboom, kboom, kboom, kboom._ Somehow, though it didn’t sound either louder or softer, it sounded _different_.

“Just the humans now! Stomping on the beat!”

I bent my knees and obeyed. It was a feeble sound in comparison.

The frontstallion put his hoof up to his ear, as if straining to hear. “Well they’ve only got two legs, and that’s not really fair. Let’s throw in some clapping! All our human friends, clapping on the ups, stomping on the downs!”

I grinned, swaying as I did it. This was fun. I caught the eyes of other humans in the room, our upper bodies emerging from the masses.

“Now put it all together! Boas in the air, wings on the downbeat, earth ponies on the upbeat, humans keep doin’ what you’re doin’, gimme the magic!”

We did it all, and we cheered besides.

The rhythm broke down happily as the song ended. I could feel a draft from all the air stirred up by pegasus wings. MC Ice was standing on his table again, keeping the beat with his own gem-studded wings to the last.

“That was Rhododoomdron, people! Make some noise! Yeah! How’re you feeling?”

We answered in a dozen different ways, all happy.

“In that case, I’ve got just one more thing to say!” declared MC Ice. “Do you know what I’ve got to say?”

While the crowd made noise, Peach tugged my shirt. “I know what he’s going to say! George told me Pony Night always ends with the same song.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

But she didn’t have to answer, because that’s when Ice mashed a button and a familiar intro began to play. He leapt over his table with a pump of his wings and swaggered onto the dance floor, singing:

 _It might seem crazy what I’m ‘bout to say_  
 _Sometimes I just want to fly away_  
 _You could take my wings, leave me treading ground_  
 _You know I’d still walk in leaps and bounds!_

 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like the world is in your hoof!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like ponies should raise the roof!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like you are a pony too!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like that’s what you want to do!_

 _Here come bad creatures with their nasty plans_  
 _Think they can conquer all the pony lands_  
 _Well, bring on the evil and the villainy!_  
 _Won’t stop me reaching for my destiny_  
 _Here’s why:_

 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like the world is in your hoof!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like ponies should raise the roof!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like you are a pony too!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like that’s what you want to do!_

By now the crowd was clomping and singing along. Even some of the humans were singing. I had too much human pride, I guess, since I settled for swaying to the beat. Ice pumped his broad wings with every other beat now, rising slowly toward the ceiling and sinking in between. He even started bobbing left and right with alternate wingbeats, singing all the while:

 _Bring me down! Can’t no one… bring me down! Because I can fly!_  
 _Bring me down! Can’t no one… bring me down! I can literally fly, yo!_  
 _Bring me down! Can’t no one… bring me down! Because I can fly!_  
 _Bring me down! Can’t no one… bring me down!_

 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like the world is in your hoof!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like ponydom is the proof!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like you are a pony too!_  
 _(‘Cause I’m a pony!) Clomp along if you feel like that’s what you want to do!_

 _(‘Cause I’m a pony…)_

* * *

We got home well after midnight. (The idea of ‘getting home’ collectively with Peach was still enough to make me laugh and whoop on the inside.) I still had songs flying through my head.

The piles of stacked furniture brimming with objects were still there to greet us. I plonked myself dramatically down into the one open seat on the sofa. Mimicking me, Peach leapt onto the ottoman and sprawled with a similarly dramatic sigh.

I got up with sudden energy and swung one of her dangling hooves like a pendulum. It kept swinging after it should have stopped. Then all her hooves started swinging. I laughed and raced around her, trying to stop them to no avail.

“Can’t stop (can’t stop) can’t stop the beat,” said Peach, her chin against the cushioned fabric. “You ca-ca-ca-can’t control my feet.”

“Maybe not, but I can try.”

She looked back at me lovingly. Then, with a fresh breath, she hopped up and went for her computer. “I should probably check my e-mail before I forget. I feel bad for missing George’s letters.”

“He didn’t take it so well, did he?”

“Ah, he was right. I should’ve told him. It just didn’t occur to me.” She hopped onto her swivel chair and spun once around, just like she always did before working on her computer. As if I needed another reminder why I loved her.

“Okay, yep, here’s the one from George,” she said. “I kind of don’t even want to read it. I mean, I know what it’s gonna say.”

“You can read it later,” I suggested.

“Yeah, probably. Um.” She leaned forward, staring at the screen.

“What is it?”

“I got e-mails from Princess Cadance!”

I felt a chill. “What, really from her, or just with her name on them?”

She clicked the mouse. “Looks like they’re just from her assistant. At least this one is. I guess it was sent last Sunday?”

“Is it just thanking us for coming to the mixer or something?”

She read it aloud. “‘Dear Ms. Peach Spark. My name is Opli Dexia; I am the personal assistant to Princess Cadance. The princess is currently addressing the United Nations; however, she has asked me to express her apologies with regard to a spell she used upon you and your companion at the VIP Mixer associated with her speech yesterday at the Radio City Music Hall. Princess Cadance regrets that she targeted you without your consent and is concerned that, due to the tense nature of the diplomatic incident that ended the mixer, she may have used more power than is typical for such treatments. She urges you to write back if the spell has caused any inconvenience. Despite her busy schedule, she promises to make time to fix any problems she may have caused.’”

“Well, this is baffling,” I said.

“Yeah! What spell is she talking about?”

“I don’t remember getting any spells cast on us.”

“Well, there was that big squabble. Maybe we got hit by something in the confusion?”

I thought back. The whole thing was a blur. “Well, if we did, I guess it didn’t hurt us. Nice of Cadance to check up… weird that she even remembered your name, really.”

“I think it’s nice. Maybe the other e-mail explains.”

“Yeah, check it.”

She did. “‘Dear Peach Spark, I feel terrible about using my magic on you and your companion without permission. I was frustrated by the behavior of the other attendees, but that’s no excuse for what I did. Please write back and confirm that you’re all right, or if you’re not all right, please let me know and I can help. Aunt Celestia helped me to see that forcing people to love each other is wrong, even if they seem perfect for each other. I haven’t done anything like this in years, and I’m losing sleep.

“‘Sincerely, Princess Cadance.’”

“Wow,” I said.

Peach sat in stunned silence.

“So this one really was from Cadance,” I said.

“Forcing people to love each other,” Peach repeated. She didn’t meet my eyes.

“Who do you think she was talking about?” I asked.

“Beats me. This doesn’t make any sense. What does forcing people to love each other have to do with this spell or whatever we got hit with?”

I realized I was shivering. “I don’t know. Maybe the e-mail was a mistake?”

Peach seemed to relax. “Yeah, probably. I’m gonna write back.”

I stood there and didn’t quite watch as she wrote her response. My mind was flitting back to the mixer. The pegasus from Las Pegasus… the minotaur ambassador… the fight… people leaving the room…

What had happened next? I couldn’t remember. I just remembered leaving the building with Peach. I remembered holding her. Hugging her. Kissing her.

“Dear Princess Cadance,” she was saying aloud as she typed. “I appreciate your e-mail, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. My boyfriend and I weren’t hit by spells that we can recall. Frankly, we’re having trouble making sense out of your e-letters. I’m guessing these were sent to me in error. Just the same, your concern is touching! Please don’t lose sleep on my behalf. Sincerely, Peach Spark. Follow my adventures at PeachOnEarth.com.”

“I don’t think you need that last bit,” I suggested. “And it’s not e-letters, it’s just letters.”

“Okay! Fixed, and fixed,” said Peach. “And sent.” She shoved her chair away from the computer, sending herself whirling. “I think that’s enough e-mail for now.”

I smiled—the shivers were gone. “Good call. What were we talking about?”

“No idea!” she said. “What say we sort some more of our stuff? That’s always fun.”

And of course she was right—it totally was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> After the last chapter, some readers were happy with the way Ron and Peach had 'reacted' to getting hit with a love spell, deciding to contentedly accept the fact that it had brought them together. Others were disappointed with this reaction, seeing it as an almost literal deus ex machina for their romantic problems. What you may not have noticed in Chapter 16 is that at no point do Ron or Peach ever refer to the spell, or to Princess Cadance making them fall in love. Now the reason for that comes clear: They don't remember it happening.
> 
> A while after Chapter 16 went up, I invited readers to ask Peach questions as if they were posting on her blog. (The comment thread is a post on my own user blog.) At the beginning of this chapter, the questions Peach is reading through on her computer are those very questions. Thanks for informing the story, folks!
> 
> In case you're unfamiliar with it, the final song at the club is to the tune of Pharrell Williams' 2013 hit "Happy". And the little snatch Peach sings later at home is a tweaked lyric from "Move Your Feet" by Junior Senior. The FraGmenTd song referenced is called "Lost". The songs named in this chapter are real, except for "Cutting Out", which we can imagine was written sometime between the present and summer of 2018. Kij Johnson is a gifted fantasy author who wrote a grimdark story called "Ponies" in 2010 that became well known in the fandom. :fluttershbad:
> 
> The throwaway line in this chapter about "the ancestral alicorn, Merry Sue" is an idea I'd been sitting on for years. I never got an idea for a story about her, but I'd love to see one! :trollestia::pinkiehappy:
> 
> What song or band would you love to see a pony musical artist cover?
> 
> I still don't know how this story ends. But I think it's going to end soon.


	18. Grafted

[ Posted: 7/22/18 by Pepper ] 

This is Ronald Pfeffer, known in my little pony circles as Counselor Pepper… usually just Pepper. You know by now that Peach is my girlfriend, that she’s at the center of my life and I’m at hers. I thought it was high time I introduced myself to her readers, especially since I helped her set up her website and her blog in the first place.

It’s such a strange time in my life. I know Peach is discovering new things every day, but right now I feel like that too. It’s almost as if I were visiting Equestria. Today I realized something about myself that, honest to god, made me cry when it had really sunk in.

All right. So, five years ago, I was engaged to a young woman named Cindy Stolarz. We were fresh out of college and we were going to be each others’ lives. We were both excited about the future and very much in love with each other. We were looking forward to kids and a house and dogs—we even agreed on pretty much all our dreams, when we chatted about them. Every conversation about the future made us feel closer.

But now it’s the future, and Cindy isn’t a part of my life anymore. 

An engagement is a promise, and I don’t take promises lightly, especially not big ones. The fact that our engagement failed means that a promise was broken. And a big promise, too—not just to us, but to our families and our communities. A person can’t go on with his life without a broken promise like that haunting him now and then, or if he does, he’s not an honest man.

Cindy Stolarz was wonderful in so many ways. She was on track for a professional life—planning on a degree in social services, but in the meantime she had an internship exactly where she wanted it. Her family were all friendly and reasonably successful people, and none of them had any major problems. She had hobbies—she liked the theater and swimming and gourmet cheeses. She was a really well balanced person and she hardly ever lost her temper.

She sounds really good on paper, doesn’t she? Well, she seemed really good in person, too. And she  was really good—for another guy. His name is Mitch and they’re married now. He didn’t break us apart, though—she met him after we’d broken our engagement off. Over the years, I’ve told a lot of people that Mitch was more like Cindy than I was. But it’s only now I finally realize what I mean by that.

How was I wrong for Cindy? How was she wrong for me? It’s a question I’ve never been able to answer. We thought we’d be happy together. Everyone who knew us thought we’d be happy together. Whatever the problem was, nobody caught it. Nobody in our lives. But there  was a problem, and it was always going to drive us apart.

How it actually happened was on a vacation we were taking together to Atlantic City. We knew we wanted to travel while we could, before having kids, and we figured we’d test it out with a local destination city to see how it would go. We knew we might get stressed on a trip together. We knew we might get sick of each other, or even snipe at each other, and we were ready for that.

So what happened? Basically… I wanted to gamble, and she didn’t want to. I know, that sounds horrible. Who gets angry at someone else for  not wanting to throw money away on a dumb thing? But then again, who goes to Atlantic City and doesn’t gamble? We agreed we’d gamble some ahead of time, but for her that meant sticking a few coins into some slot machines on our way someplace else, like the boardwalk. I figured since we were in a casino town, we should spend a day touring the casinos. Actually learning some games and looking like fools if we had to. Knowing full well we’d probably lose all the money we budgeted for it and still hoping that maybe, just maybe we’d end up winning after all. Maybe we’d win big. Maybe we’d blow it all on something dumb by morning.

It’s too easy just to say I’m a risk-taker and she’s not. Because I’m not really a risk taker. In some ways, I’m one of the biggest pluggers I know. I look back on all the risks I’ve left behind—sticking it out with Cindy included—and I want to shout at myself for being a coward. And it’s too easy to say I’m more of a child at heart than she is, though that’s closer. Cindy’s interests were all adult—she loved looking into the future because she didn’t really like being a young, insecure twenty-something, and I wanted to stay young forever. But it’s not childishness I felt was missing from her. I knew it wasn’t. It was something deeper, but I could never figure out exactly what.

It would even be too simple to say she didn’t have a sense of humor, though that’s closer still. She laughed. She laughed at plays, or at TV shows when she was supposed to laugh. The good old formulas for humor worked for her, and she laughed out of sheer happiness when we were together, like I did, and I mistook that for humor. It’s more that she didn’t have the  right sense of humor… but who ever heard of a couple breaking up over something piddly like that?

But today, I finally understood. It’s not just that Cindy wasn’t eccentric. It’s that she didn’t  like the idea of being eccentric. No one is totally normal, and I think when we were in love, Cindy and I were about the same amount normal as each other. I thought of myself as an ordinary, average guy, and she thought of herself as a girl on track for a healthy, normal life. But… we were growing in different directions. I have to admit—I don’t like the idea of a person who smooths over everything that’s weird about her as she grows up. I like the idea of people who get more interesting the longer they live. I need a girl with valleys, but with big peaks, too. I know that sounds dirty, but it’s the best way I can think to put it. And Cindy was never going to be that girl. She could never because she didn’t want to.

I’m sorry. I’m crying again.

My point is… ponies are that girl that Cindy wasn’t. Ponies are themselves, and more so. Ponies are made of peaks and valleys, they’re living color, they’ll never be smoothed over. Their cutie marks alone are proof of that. You can’t erase a cutie mark. You can’t keep a pony’s nature down. If you love a pony… if you’re lucky enough to find a pony you love, you can be sure it’s only going to get better, not worse, over time. Because that’s the way ponies are.

I love you, Peach Spark.

Will you marry me?

* * *

 

I erased the last sentence before pressing Submit.

 

* * *

 

My post had over fifty comments by the time we were back from lunch. We’d gone to a random ethnic restaurant just for the fun of it, to try something new. This one had promised “The Flavors of the East”, and Peach had wanted to know what those flavors tasted like, so we’d gone there. She’d decided she wanted to try the flavors of the north, south and west, too. On the way back, we stopped at a drug store and randomly bought a huge black and white fuzzy poster, the kind you color yourself. It had a unicorn on it. We both agreed it had to go on our wall.

“I think people love that you love me,” said Peach from her swivel chair.

“Is that what they’re saying?” I asked from my spot on a the little rug we’d put beside the fuzzy poster, now that we’d cleared a space on our apartment’s floor big enough for it.

“Seems like a lot of support!” she chirped. “Then again, what are they gonna say, ‘Boo we hate you Peach’? If they were gonna trash on things, why would they read my blog in the first place?” She spun back to the screen. “Still, it feels good. All these little emojicons.”

“It’s either ‘emoticons’ or ‘emojis’, not both,” I told her through a chuckle.

“It can be both,” she said. “Hey, are you making her horn pink?”

I stopped coloring. “What’s wrong with pink?”

“Nothing.” Peach swiveled her chair and hopped down, hooves clacking. “It can be pink if you want. But I thought we’d color her horn together.”

I smiled and held out a marker. She took it immediately in her magical grip.

“I think it’s a him, not a her,” I remarked.

“Naaah. See the shape of the chest? Those aren’t a stallion’s curves. See the muzzle? A guy’s muzzle doesn’t taper like that.”

“Remember, this isn’t the same kind of unicorn you are,” I pointed out quietly.

She drew a careful pink stroke on the horn. “We can say it’s a girl if we want to,” she conceded in the same reverent hush.

I smiled and colored alongside her.

“I think I want stripes on the horn,” she suggested. “They say if your horn winds clockwise, you’re going to gr—”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

I looked at Peach, not at the door. She scrambled to her hooves, just the way I imagined she had the first time I’d knocked on her door. _Clack clack clack_ , they went on the floor, except for one that landed silently on the rug. “Who could that be?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t invite anyone.”

She looked at me, and her face was terrified. “What if it’s Princess Cadance?!”

“Princess Cadance? Why would she be—”

“I can tell you’re worried,” said a tempered feminine voice through the door. “You don’t have to be. I only mean the best for both of you.”

I stood up. I’d heard that voice before.

“Oh alicorns!” Peach swore. She hurried over and opened the door, albeit reluctantly. A dusky yellow unicorn, much darker than the yellow unicorn from the club, was standing there.

“Second Sight,” I breathed.

She stood there, looking at us. From me to Peach. Then back to me. Peach backed up without saying a word.

“You don’t really love each other,” said Second Sight.

Her sentence hung in the air. It was like a doctor’s diagnosis, with the flavor of an ice cube in a bowl of Lucky Charms, or an alarm clock cutting through a dream.

Peach eventually managed to stammer a response: “Wh—what are you…?”

Second Sight stepped into the apartment, closed the door behind her, and deadbolted it. She ignored all the furniture stacked on top of other furniture, all the mess we hadn’t cleaned yet. She focused on me. “You’re ignoring something huge. Something that makes it impossible.”

I took one of the hardest breaths I’ve ever taken. “Second Sight…”

She looked at Peach. “And you’re only seeing what you want to see.”

Peach’s blue eyes widened. She looked at me.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” I demanded. I’d tried to muster anger, but it came out feeling more like confusion. Scared confusion.

“I’ve been reading your blog,” she told Peach. “And I spoke with Mr. Harrison. He met you at a club on Friday. He was disturbed.”

“Of course he was disturbed,” protested Peach quietly. “I’d just broken up with him.”

“And forgotten to tell him about it.”

“And forgot to tell him about it,” Peach admitted. “I can’t blame him.”

“Ignoring what?” I asked.

“He thought something might have happened to you,” Second Sight told Peach. “That you weren’t acting under your own total control.”

“He was upset! He was confused!”

“He was right,” said Second Sight heavily.

“Ignoring what?!” I yelled. “What is this huge thing I’m ignoring?”

“ _I don’t know!_ ” shouted Second Sight, turning angrily toward me. It was the first time I’d seen emotion in her face.

“Then why… then why did you say it?”

“Because I can _see_ it. I can feel it.” Her purple-haired head swung back to Peach. “George was right. You aren’t really in love. You’ve been soldered together, like wires in a conduit.”

“That is… no. Second, that’s not possible. That’s not true.”

The dark yellow unicorn watched the peach-colored one as if seeing new sobering truths by the second. “You know it’s true. You just don’t know that you—oh. There, now you do. Now you’re moving through the stages of grief. Was it Princess Cadance? I almost have to assume it was Princess Cadance.”

“You have to assume _what_ was her?” I pressed. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“You’re stuck in denial,” she told me, looking me in the eyes. Through the eyes, really. “The two of you are under a love spell. I don’t have much to compare it to; I’ve only seen one love spell before, and it was in a clinical setting. But it wasn’t nearly this strong. This is so strong it’s making my head hurt just looking at it.”

“A love spell?” I echoed. That claim seemed somehow familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Yes! It’s amazing. It’s so strong it’s making you forget it even exists. This is the kind of thing that could only be done by one of the strongest love mages in the world. But that’s just what Princess Cadance is.”

“A love mage?” whimpered Peach.

“It’s her natural gift. You know that. You know what I’m talking about.” Second Sight looked squarely at me. “Mr. Pfeffer, do you even remember what I just told you a moment ago?”

I didn’t want to remember, but I did. “That I’m under a love spell. Cast by Princess Cadance, I think you’re saying.”

She stamped the floor. “Yes. She made you fall in love with Peach Spark.”

“I was already in love with her!” I cried.

She looked carefully at me.

“What are we going to do?” asked Peach, half-sitting now.

Second Sight went over and held her. “I don’t think it’s breaking. I thought it might break if I made you aware of it. It’s too strong for that.” She looked between us and continued in a lower voice. “I think you must really have been very nearly in love for it to take such a solid hold on you both.”

“I was,” I said through rising tears. “I am.”

“Maybe you were,” she admitted. “But there’s still something huge you’re pushing back. And Miss Spark… you were in love with Mr. Harrison, weren’t you?”

Peach sniffled. “I don’t remember.”

Second Sight squeezed her in an awkward-looking hug, then stood back. I went over to Peach and sat beside her on the floor. She took me in her forelegs like she was afraid.

“I think we need to contact the princess,” said Second Sight.

“She wrote me an e-mail,” blurted Peach. I hadn’t even remembered that until now.

Second Sight looked sharp. “She did?”

“Yeah.” Peach paused for a long time before going to the computer. “I don’t remember what it was about. Let’s find out.”

We all went together and she read it aloud, together with her own reply. Her voice was slow and quavering. “…My boyfriend and I weren’t hit by spells that we can recall. Frankly, we’re having trouble making sense out of your letters. I’m guessing these were sent to me in error.”

“You were in denial,” said Second Sight. “You have to write back again.”

Peach sat there, her front hooves on the chair, her back legs curled under. “I don’t wanna.”

“I know,” said Second Sight. “But you have to.”

There was silence. “Do we really have to?” I asked.

The dusky unicorn with the messy purple mane looked at me. “It isn’t wise to stay under a personality-altering spell.”

I trembled. “I’m happy this way!” I objected. “I’m actually happy.” Then a horrifying memory trickled in. “I was going to move away,” I added. “I was about to give up… move back home…”

“Maybe we shouldn’t write back to Cadance,” said Peach. “Maybe we should stay in love. It’s been… it’s been the most wonderful time that I can remember.”

“The spell won’t last forever,” said Second Sight.

That hung.

“Maybe it will,” I resisted.

“Not even the strongest love spell can last forever,” she said.

“But love can last forever!” I shouted. “What if we really are in love now? What if the spell just tipped us into what we were going to do anyway?”

She considered. “Then I guess it was the right thing for the princess to do. Or it may have been. But we still need to get it removed.”

“No,” said Peach.

“It’s not healthy for you to—”

“NO!” she shouted. She looked to me plaintively.

I opened my arms and she hopped over. She reared up as tall as she could on her back legs and we hugged.

“I’m going to call Kellydell,” said Second Sight. “May I use your telephone?”

“Haven’t got one,” said Peach.

Second Sight sighed. “You really should get a telephone.”

With some difficulty, I pulled mine out and offered it. “You can use mine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pfeffer.”

We stood and hugged and squeezed and stumbled while in the background we heard Second Sight’s careful, impersonal voice speaking on the phone. “Kellydell, it’s what you might call a friendship emergency. Will you come? …Yes, apartment 412. …Yes, bring him. …All right. Thank you.”

We unfolded from each other long enough to see her wander through the furniture and come upon our unicorn poster. She looked up at us.

“It’s a fuzzy poster,” said Peach weakly.

“So I see,” said Second Sight. “I do enjoy collaborative art. Shall we color it together to pass the time?”

 

* * *

 

We were coloring when there was another knock. It was softer this time, and we were expecting it, so there was no scrambling. Second Sight opened the door and Kellydell came in, followed by Seaswell. Then, to my mild surprise, in came George Harrison.

Peach looked up in alarm, her mouth open.

Kellydell came around the bookcase and gave Peach a nuzzle. “Peachy. Are you okay? I was worried it might be something like this.”

“I’m not okay,” she said.

I stood up and backed away. Second Sight explained things in as much detail as she knew, and Kellydell asked questions. George and Seaswell didn’t say much—they hung back.

“I don’t want him to move out,” asserted Peach, who kept shifting between sitting and standing. “It’s been amazing living together.”

“And we’re going to save money,” I added.

“Oh, really!” said Kellydell to me. “I guess this kind of solution could solve any kind of housing crisis, couldn’t it? Just magic everyone up so that they fall madly in love, and suddenly, wham!” She gestured around us. “You have couples living comfortably in a cluttered studio apartment?”

“We were planning on getting a one bedroom when the lease is up,” murmured Peach.

“Not to mention loneliness,” Kellydell continued sarcastically. “Lonely people cluttering up a city? Just sort them out and hex them. Pow—they’re in love and won’t ever be lonely again. So many problems, solved just by tinkering with people’s hearts!”

“You’re making out like it’s lunacy,” put in George, “but there just might be some value in that idea. Helping out the lonely people might be worth more than you think.”

“We have pills,” I said. “Things like Prozac. They make people happier.”

“You do?” asked Peach.

“And we went to Cadance too,” Seaswell reminded his wife. “We had her renew our love.”

Kellydell stamped her hoof, though it didn’t make much noise. “Renewal is different.”

“Is it really?”

“Of course. We had something to begin with.”

“And we didn’t?!” cried Peach.

Kellydell looked at me. “I don’t honestly know. From what Second said… Peach, come on. Let’s talk over here. You boys go talk over there a while.”

Peach obeyed. Soon, the three mares were huddled up talking around the fuzzy poster, and George, Seaswell and I found ourselves sitting on the futon mattress on the floor.

“So this is where it’s come to,” said George.

“I’m so confused,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I should be doing or thinking.”

Seaswell hugged me and patted my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“I expect he’s right,” said George. “It may not come okay easily, but these things do work out.”

“I don’t want to give her up,” I said. “I know that’s a dumb thing to say to you, but I don’t. I really don’t.”

George shook his head. “It’s a perfectly honest thing to say. Listen, chum. This isn’t about me and her. I’m not here just now for Peach alone. I’m here for you too. Don’t think of us as rivals, if you can help it. Today I’m not your rival. Today I’m here as a friend, nothing more.”

I nodded and didn’t meet his eyes.

“I know you want to keep loving Peach,” said Seaswell. “But it’s going to fade no matter what. And either you’ll still love her then, or you won’t. I hope you do. But if you don’t, you don’t want it to linger, do you?”

I bit my tongue. Lingering was exactly what I wanted this feeling to do.

“You’re a victim, Sergeant. You’ve been dealt a bad one here. Sorry to say, it’s gonna feel cruel sooner or later. And seeing as how it’s Cadance’s fault, I feel she really ought to be given the chance to make things square.”

“Do you really think this is Cadance’s fault?” asked Seaswell.

“Well, in part. Sounds like it was really more those scrapping ambassadors to blame—the princess just got caught up in the excitement.”

I sat in thought. Seaswell’s wing brushed my side and face, and I held it gently.

Peach walked up to me. I reached out for her with my other hand; she put her hoof in it.

“Is it a lie?” I asked her. “What you’re feeling for me? Is it a lie deep down?”

Her eyes went small. She switched her tail and sniffled, then blinked in thought.

“That’s one thing I love about you, Peaches,” said George. “You don’t just accept the easy answers. You look for truth. You always look for truth.”

“I do,” she repeated.

I clutched her hoof harder.

“It does seem weird,” she admitted at last. “That I fell for you so quickly, when I was probably about to choose George instead.” She looked at him, vulnerable. “I was,” she squeaked.

He met her eyes and almost nodded, obviously uncomfortable.

It was really hard for me to say what I said next. “Do you think you can remember… why you were about to choose him?”

Peach closed her eyes. She remained in thought, struggling, for a full thirty seconds while the others came to watch.

“I can’t,” she eventually said. “I can’t remember why.”

“She’s telling the truth,” said Second Sight quietly.

Peach moved closer and leaned against me. “I love you so much, Pepper.”

“I know, I love you so much too.”

“But—somehow I know I’m tricking myself,” she said, looking at George.

“It takes a mind strong as steel to admit that,” said George.

There was a tremendous, murky tension. No one spoke.

Until Kellydell did. “I think we should all watch ‘Hearts and Hooves Day’,” she suggested.

“Is that the pony episode where they make the l…” My voice broke. “…the love potion?”

“That’s the one. What do you say?”

We all looked at each other.

“I think we’re in general agreement,” said Second Sight. “Let’s put it on.”

 

* * *

 

So we turned down the lights and watched an episode of My Little Pony written by Megan McCarthy—the woman who had been the so-called Head of Storytelling for My Little Pony when her story world had unexpectedly come to life; a woman who had since toured Equestria and written extensively about it but turned down the chance to live there. I sat in my apartment which in a sense wasn’t my home, surrounded by five ponies who wanted the best for me but were steadfastly ruining my perfect life.

I almost forgot my problems in watching the problems of three cute little children with incredibly big smiles and soulful eyes—children whom I knew were now teenagers carrying on correspondence with youths across their country, co-presidents of the Cutie Mark Crusaders Organization. These were children who had made it big and with a vengeance early in life, but now, in front of me, they were busily making a mess by fooling with magic beyond their ken.

Their problem resolved as pony problems often do—in the very nick of time—and they stood abashed, having learned their lesson, as so many ponies do every week they stumble through their uncertain lives, and as so many human beings don’t.

“We should have never meddled in your relationship,” apologized a little yellow earth filly, who had since taken on most of the business correspondence for her older sister at their world-famous apple farm, yet still found the time to travel.

“Nopony can force two ponies to be together,” admitted a crippled orange pegasus filly whose choreographic routines had opened for the Wonderbolts in various venues and even once for Princess Celestia at the Summer Sun Celebration.

“It’s up to everypony to choose that very special somepony for themselves,” concluded a pretty white unicorn filly who now toured Equestria, giving inspiration to classrooms full of fillies and colts as confused about their futures as she had once been.

“We’re sorry,” said all three in creepy unison.

The episode ended and we sat in the dark.

“I’m glad it worked out,” said Seaswell. “What if they’d been a little faster getting back with the diamond and the dress? What if they really had gotten married?”

“I’m sure they would have spent an hour apart eventually,” said Kellydell. “And then they’d be stuck in a sham marriage.”

“Until they petitioned Celestia for a divorce,” said Second Sight.

“For god’s sake,” I mumbled. Seaswell, sitting next to me, put his head gently against my side.

“But they did go off together in the end,” pressed Peach. “Maybe Cheerilee and Big Mac could have made things work after all. I know they didn’t end up together, but they could have! The kids didn’t know.”

“Because they didn’t know, they shouldn’t have forced it,” said Second Sight.

“The romantic picnic was a good try,” said George. “When that didn’t work, they should’ve switched tacks.”

“I know, but… but just because they were enchanted doesn’t mean they couldn’t have gotten together in the end,” protested Peach. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“Exactly,” said Kellydell. “They still have their chance. And so will you. Once the spell is removed.”

“I don’t want it to be removed. I like the way I feel!”

“Peach, it’s altering your personality!”

“I don’t care! Love _is_ a personality-altering spell! That’s how it works! And it’s a good thing.”

“I know it feels right,” said George. “And I’m sorry, Peaches--I truly wish it didn’t have to be done. But you can’t just keep living with this. It’s no good for you any more than it was good for Mac and Cheery.”

Peach stood up on her own sofa. “But we’re not like those two! They were just staring into each others’ eyes and saying pet names! Pepper and I are… living life! We’re settling into our home, working our jobs, going out… we’re not poisoned with love. We’re happy.”

“You are much better off than Mr. Macintosh and Miss Cheerilee,” acknowledged Second Sight. “But it would be wrong to say that your mental processes are unimpeded. When I look at you, I can see that you feel something like love for each other. One could argue that it _is_ love. But it doesn’t grow out of your natural emotional complex, like true love does.” She tilted her head, looking at me carefully. “It’s _grafted_ on. The connection isn’t sound, and as a result, whenever you’re faced with a decision that involves your love for each other, the process isn’t smooth. Even if this graft is much better than the one I observed during my studies, it still causes emotional jerkage. You aren’t going to make sound decisions, true to the emotional complexes you’ve built up over a life of experience, so long as this artificial love structure is grafted into your minds.”

“I’ve never been much of a decision maker,” I admitted.

“Decision-making is life,” intoned Second Sight.

Silence. “I think we should write back to Cadance,” said Peach quietly.

I felt tears welling up quickly. I wiped them and nodded.

We went to Peach’s computer. She pulled up her e-mail. “Oh,” she said softly through her tears. “Looks like she wrote back to me already.”

“Not surprising,” said Kellydell.

Peach read. “Dear Peach Spark. With regard to your recent correspondence: I am afraid that Princess Cadance is adamant that she did in fact target you and your companion with a love spell, and the fact that you do not recall it implies that said spell was even more effective than she feared. She has asked me to insist that we arrange a time and place to meet so that this error may be made right. Her Serene Highness has returned to the Crystal Empire, but as her Earthside adjutant, I look forward to meeting you and your companion in person at your earliest convenience. Please respond. —Opli Dexia.”

“You’ll have to meet with her,” murmured Kellydell.

“Oh gosh, she seems so rigid,” said Peach.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “This isn’t gonna be any fun at all.”

“I don’t think it’s realistic to expect a decoupling like this to be fun,” said Second Sight. “It may well be emotionally painful, or at least unsettling.”

“Way to ease the blow,” remarked George.

Peach looked at me for some reason, probably studying my face to see whether I was backing out. When she decided I wasn’t, she set to typing her reply, her hooves pressed against the edge of the desk and her magic pushing the keys. “Hi there,” she muttered as she typed. “I’m sorry about before. I guess we really must have been jinkied and we didn’t know it until now. Thank goodness for friends, huh?” She paused to take a deep breath. “I work from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, Monday through Friday. So that’s pretty much out. Any other time, we can meet, if Ron’s available. Let’s set up a time.” She looked around the room. “Anything else I should say?”

No one spoke at first. “Probably ample time for the mushy details in person,” said George.

“Yeah,” I said.

Peach turned back to her screen. “I look forward to meeting you and getting this taken care of.” She hesitated. “Sincerely, Peach Spark. Thank the princess for thinking of me.” And she clicked Send.

“That was brave of you, Peach,” said Seaswell.

“I’ll say,” said Kellydell.

“It was brave of Mr. Pfeffer too, for the record,” said Second Sight, as if simply stating a fact. “He could have objected.”

“True enough,” said George.

In the silence, Peach turned to George, her eyes glazed by tears she hadn’t shed. “You really think my mind is as strong as steel?”

He nodded. “Absolutely, Miss Peaches. And I’d give you a hug about now if you wanted one.”

She looked uneasily to me for a moment, and when I gave a tiny nod, she hugged George. They squeezed for quite a while. Then they parted.

“What now?” asked Peach.

“Do you need someone to stay the night?” asked Kellydell. “We can stay, if you need us.”

I exchanged an uncertain glance with Peach. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been through this before either, you know.” She cleared a couple things off the bed, looking uneasy. “We don’t really have much space. Are you thinking we need…” She made a disgusted face. “…a chaperone?”

Kellydell winced. “Not exactly how I meant it.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” I said. What were we supposed to do, promise we wouldn’t love each other too hard before our appointment?

“Yeah,” said Peach.

“Have it your way,” said Kellydell. “I’ll try to come by tomorrow evening.”

“You want to see my face too?” asked George? “Or should I steer clear?”

Peach hung her head. “I don’t know. Let’s wait on that.”

George nodded.

We all turned to look at Peach’s computer, as if waiting for her e-mail program to chime. But it didn’t, so eventually Seaswell nudged Kellydell with his face, and she sighed and gave him a nuzzle. “We should be going,” she told the room.

They gave their wishes of good luck and left. So did George, giving us a winsome glance on his way out. Second Sight went last, pausing on her way to the door. “Try to know yourselves better,” she advised. And with a swing of her tail, she was gone.

Peach stood staring at the door. I went over to the bookcase and sat down, looking at nothing.

“Wow,” Peach eventually said. She wandered over to the kitchenette and put on the tea kettle, not looking at me. Eventually, I heard it whistling and looked up.

“You want some?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

She served me peppermint tea. I sat and drank it, too hot. Somehow we both wound up back at the big fuzzy poster on the floor.

She picked up the pink marker. “I’m gonna do the horn now,” she declared.

I took a green marker. “I’ll do the grass,” I said.

“Okay,” said Peach.

 

* * *

 

That night, we lay together on Peach’s futon mattress, facing away from each other. I was lying limp and clammy; Peach was all curled up. When I felt the hair of her tail against my thigh, I sighed and wriggled away.

“What do you think’s gonna happen?” she asked quietly.

I gave it an honest try, but I didn’t have anything better than “I don’t know.”

We were silent, but I didn’t think for a moment we were going to fall asleep without saying anything else.

“They were talking like I was supposed to fall in love with George,” Peach murmured. I could feel her breaths from the way they stretched the blanket over us. “That’s what I was doing, apparently, so now that’s what I’ve got to do.”

I couldn’t say anything.

“I mean, I get that this isn’t healthy. That something happened, and we’re not all right.” A pause, without breathing. “But I don’t like the idea that there’s someone I’m _supposed_ to fall in love with.”

“Me neither,” I mumbled.

Peach was still for a while. “I feel like I’m a new person. Someone that shouldn’t exist. Old Peach got caught in a spell and turned into me, New Peach… and now they want to get rid of me, so they can have Old Peach back.”

I turned over to face her. “I don’t feel like a new person,” I contributed. “I just feel like a better one.”

Peach sighed and slid over. She rested one hoof on my chest.

I stretched out my arm and put it on her.

Now I could imagine us falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> I like those black fuzzy posters now and then. The downside is that the fuzz can get a little messy. The upside is that they’re forgiving if you color outside the lines.
> 
> Ron would say that ponies are like that too.
> 
> One line I wanted to give Second Sight back in Chapter 14 was “Ah! If Mr. Pfeffer were to say he was pleased to meet me now, he would actually -mean- it.” Too late for that now, I’d say.
> 
> Your question for this chapter: Has there ever been a time in your life when watching a pony episode put your mind at ease or helped you address a problem?


	19. The Last Day

WHEN WE WOKE UP, we were intertwined.

Somehow, we seemed to become aware of it at the same time. Peach shifted uneasily. “We’re not supposed to be doing this,” she said.

Trying not to feel emotion, we untangled ourselves from each other and came to our senses. I got up to make coffee.

“I have to go to work,” said Peach.

“Me too,” I said.

Peach and I bumbled around the apartment, getting ready for our day and trying not to get in each others’ way. I poured her a mug of coffee and put cinnamon in it. She didn’t take it with her magic until I’d put it down.

Later, while I was munching on breakfast, she spun around in her computer chair and looked at me.

“What?”

“Opli Dexia wrote back. She wants to meet with us tomorrow morning. She’s bringing along an enchantment expert.”

I blinked. My coffee hadn’t been quick enough on the draw for this.

“Are you working tomorrow at seven?” Peach asked.

“Seven in the morning? I never work that early. And no, I’m off tomorrow.”

“Good. Should I tell them it’s okay?”

What was this even going to entail? “I guess. I guess this Opli pony is still in town from the thing last week, even though Cadance went home.”

“No, she said she’s rushing over.” She turned back to read. “‘As this may constitute material for an international incident, the princess has recommended that I handle it with haste. I will therefore expedite my arrival.’”

“International incident?” Now I really wanted my coffee to kick in.

“Yeah, that surprised me too. I wonder if she’s afraid we’ll go to the newspapers.”

“Over being in love?”

“Over being tricked into being in love, yeah.”

“We weren’t tricked.” I put down my mug and went over to Peach.

“Forced, whatever. For all they know, we could be upset.”

She stood up on her chair and I took her in my arms and rocked her. Held her. Cuddled her. Hugged her.

She hugged back. “Maybe if we’re getting fixed soon, we should make the most of this while we’ve got it,” she suggested.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“How can following your heart be a bad idea?”

I was tempted not to argue, but I did. “If your heart’s screwy, then it might be.”

She gave me her look—upset, incredulous, hurt… I’m not sure quite how to describe it, but it was a look I’d seen her give before when I explained things about Earth and humans, and it seemed to say, _How can things be this way? How can you let them be this way?_ “Then what can we do?”

“Follow our heads, I guess.”

She sank back and the look softened, but remained. We didn’t say a lot more before going off to work.  
  


* * *

  
I got a call around three in the afternoon. I never get calls at work, and it’s a hassle for my boss and the team when I do. I wasn’t surprised to hear Peach’s voice.

“Hey Pepper, I can’t stop thinking about you! It’s making it tough for me to focus on my work.”

“Um…” I’d been making an effort not to think about Peach and our situation, but without much success. “Are you asking for advice?”

“…No, I’m saying we should go on a date today after work, before it gets too dark! This could be our last chance!”

“A date? Are you sure?”

Silence. “No, I’m not sure, but I really want to. When do you get off?”

“In just an hour. Does it really make sense to date? We’re already in love, and we’re probably not going to be in love anymore tomorrow…”

“Why can’t we go on a date anyway? Dating is fun. And if we won’t get to anymore, we have to do it today!”

The emotion in her voice won me over—it wasn’t even close. “All right. Do you think you can get out of work an hour early?”

“I bet I can! One guy already even told me he thinks I should go home for the day. But he’s not my boss, so I didn’t.”

I grinned. “I think while there’s sun, I’d like to take you to the park. Does that sound good?”

“You’re the local! I’m gonna trust you totally.”

“You think I’m that trustworthy?”

“Naah, but if I’m with you, what’s the worst that can happen? I still get to be with you.”

My heart started pounding warmly. “See you soon, Peach.”  
  


* * *

  
I got home just minutes before her. It was a burst of colorful joy when she arrived. She ran over to me and hugged me over into the sofa, and I realized how much I’d been suppressing my feelings even to myself—keeping myself from thinking too much, let alone losing myself in love. I fell backward over the sofa and started to laugh in spurts until Peach was chuckling too. We played with each others’ hair and took turns laughing and grinning, and at the most perfect moments we laughed together.

Then I took her out to a big local park where we strolled and appreciated the flowers. Peach kept wanting to smell them all, so eventually I got on my knees to smell them with her. At one point we smelled a trail of flowers clear through to the other side of the planting, as if we were on some kind of scent journey. People walking by looked at us funny, and we smiled at them and didn’t mind. We watched children playing on the playground for a while. Then we succumbed to temptation and went to play on it ourselves.

A couple of people said something to us. One short-haired guy in stripes worked up the gumption to ask: “Are you… _into_ her?” Peach answered before I could, that yeah, I totally was. And I backed her up. Later, there was an angry old man who watched us, shaking his head, and eventually spat out, “Fucking pony lover.” We just looked at each other and laughed it off.

We wandered down to the pond and watched the birds out on the water and the people having barbecues and picnics by the shore. Peach pointed to a yellow boat. “What’s that?”

“That’s a paddleboat! They rent them out here.”

“A paddleboat? I don’t see any paddles.”

“There’s a paddlewheel on the bottom. They turn it by pedaling with their legs!”

Peach leaned out and watched in interest. “Then it’s a pedalboat!”

“I think it gets called both things.” I thought of asking her if she wanted to go out, but decided to smile and wait instead.

Peach leapt in place. “I want to go on one!”

I laughed. “I knew you would! It’s eleven dollars for an hour. Think we can spare that?”

She looked bashful. “You’re my money manager.”

I scratched her neck. “And I say it’s fine. Let’s go!”

The girl at the rental station asked Peach if she was sure she was comfortable using the pedals. Peach looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure! Can I try them out?”

Trying them out turned out to be fine, so Peach tried sitting back in the seat and pushing the pedals with her hind legs. That didn’t work, so she switched to a standing position with her hind hooves in the seat and her front hooves on the pedals. The girl laughed when Peach said, “Yeah, this’ll be fine!”

We went out for forty-five minutes. During that time, Peach tried at least four different positions, including a minute during which she twisted herself around the bow and worked all four pedals at once! I stroked her coat during the quieter times and kept a steady pace.

“Does it feel to you like you’re going away?” Peach asked. A line of beautiful tulip trees loomed in front of us, suggesting gently that we change our course before too long.

“Going away?” I wondered if she was getting at a big question I’d been trying to avoid—whether I was going to move back west to my family after all.

“Yeah.” She stared ahead while slowly cycling her front legs. “Remember what I said last night about Old Peach and New Peach?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“It might be silly, but… I feel like in a way, I’m only going to live another day. Like this is the last evening in the world. Like it doesn’t matter what we do today, except right here, and right now.”

“Because tomorrow we get erased?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s only a piece of us that’s getting erased… not the whole thing… and we’ll still remember everything from today… but maybe we won’t feel the same way about it.”

What are you supposed to do when you know your feelings are going to be erased? “How do you feel about Old Peach? Do you want to make her happy?”

Peach was glum. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But you care more about yourself.”

Peach started to tear up. “I don’t like being selfish. Does it count as being selfish if it’s against yourself?”

I smiled and patted my belly. “I dunno. That’s future Spike’s problem, right?”

She smiled a funny smile at me and chuckled. Then she stepped over the front divider and planted her face in my chest. Then she slurped me on the chin.

Passions rising, I took off my shirt.  
  


* * *

  
We were a little rumpled and a lot flushed when we got back with the paddleboat. Peach couldn’t stop looking at my face, it seemed like, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her body even when I wasn’t looking. We traipsed out of the park—and I don’t use the word ‘traipsed’ lightly.

“Want to go to Jersey Gardens?” I asked her.

“More flowers?” she asked.

“No! It’s the biggest outlet mall in the state, and it’s right here in town.”

“Ooh! What’s an outlet mall?”

“It’s like a regular mall, but cheaper and sloppier.” I grinned.

Peach planted her hooves hard against the ground. “Then let’s go!” she declared, and galloped away.  
  


* * *

  
The first cabbie I hailed pulled up, looked at Peach dubiously, and said, “Sorry folks. “No shoes, no shirt, no service.”

“What?” asked Peach. “But I rode in a taxi before and I wasn’t wearing anything then either!”

“I thought there was an exception for ponies,” I said.

“Not in my cab,” said the guy. “Put something on like a decent person, willya?” Then he drove off.

Peach and I looked at each other. Somehow, our concerned expressions morphed into ones sputtering with laughter. I didn’t have to tell her that it was okay. She knew. We hailed another cab whose driver was delighted to have a pony, and off we went, the insult all but forgotten.

We didn’t worry about how much we were spending. The deals were good, and after all, as I remarked facetiously, it was our last night on earth. I paid for the cab ride and the order of falafels we split later, and gave her permission to buy whatever she could carry. We had a blast, hurrying from one store to another. Peach did most of the deciding where to go, but I got into the thrill of it. I got a new belt, new boxer shorts, and a new video game that Peach had spotted playing on a display in a window. Peach got several small bags of merchandise that she stuffed inside other bags until I had no idea how much she’d bought. We made the most of our ‘last’ night out.

“I love outlet malls,” she decided on our way out.

“Is that so?”

“Yep! I know I’ve only been to the one, but I feel safe generalizing because my feelings are so strong.”

I almost laughed to feel my own heart fluttering again. “You seem to have a lot of strong feelings.”

She stopped walking and looked up at me, her white plastic sacks balanced magically on her back. “I’m really glad we followed our hearts,” she said.

Suddenly I was stung with fear, but I ignored it. “Yeah,” I agreed. “And as hearts go, yours is really strong.”

“And yours is really big,” she said.  
  


* * *

  
We were pretty exhausted by the time we got home, but the urge to keep flirting and complimenting and being tender with each other was just too _there_ to ignore, so we kept hurrying over and touching each other and saying sweet things until our jaws and voices and muscles in general were starting to ache. It was a happy ache, so it didn’t bother us. We turned on the air conditioning, set the alarm clock, and fell asleep in a half made bed. My hand was clutching one of Peach’s legs, and I didn’t know which one.  
  


* * *

  
Six-thirty was way too early to wake up. The sun was shining, but my brain was begging for more rest, and it was united with my heart in the desire that this rest should be against the soft velvety flesh of a certain pony.

But Peach was climbing out of bed. “Ohhh gosh, Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh great galosh.”

“Too early,” I said.

“Yeah. And they’re gonna be here in half an hour. Ohhhh, this is miserable.”

I had to agree. Still, we managed to stumble around and get ourselves looking, if not feeling, presentable. Getting the apartment to look presentable was a lost cause.

Peach and I wound up sitting together on the ottoman, facing the door. I held her fetlock in my hand. Various parts of me were almost aching, and I was trying not to cry. Peach seemed just as nervous as me. We were both out of words, until--

“Is this dumb?” I asked.

“What? Going along with it?”

“Waiting like this. Shouldn’t we just be… going about our lives, doing whatever we have to do?”

“Cleaning up the apartment?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“But we don’t even know if we’re still going to be sharing the apartment,” Peach moaned quietly. “We might have to start separating everything out again. We just don’t know what things are going to be like.”

“So we’re just stuck?” I asked. “There’s nothing we can do because we don’t know our future?”

“There might be something we can do that doesn’t depend on us being in love,” she said, “but I don’t know what it is.”

I didn’t either, so I stayed silent. And that’s when my watch beeped 7 a.m., and there was a knock on the door.

Peach’s head fell. “Oh snowshoes.”

I inhaled and got up. “We’re here,” I said loudly.

“This is Opli Dexia, personal assistant to Princess Mi Amore Cadenza,” said a clipped feminine voice that was somehow soft and loud at the same time. Soft in that it didn’t have any sharp edges, but loud because it knew its own importance.

Peach ran up and opened the door. A pale greenish earth pony—no, crystal pony—stood there wearing small black glasses and a tight damask vest. Beside her was an impression of pink. It resolved into a unicorn with long, curly hair, flowing and magenta, a mane so loud it was hard to look at him. His body was hot pink, broken only by a black cravat. The mare’s cutie mark was a fine art deco arrow pointing to the right; the stallion’s was two opposing swirls of magic.

“Hello,” said Opli Dexia. “This is Pink Coil, Royal Mage Emeritus to the Crystal Empire, and the empire’s foremost expert on personal enchantments. May we come in?”

“Sure,” I said. Peach and I moved aside. They entered and shut the door behind them.

Pink Coil was the kind of guy whose face takes everything in, and who tries to take gentle control of a situation. His voice was old and full and crackly. “Just to confirm. You are Peach Spark and Ronald Pfeffer?”

“Yeah,” said Peach, giving me a nervous glance.

“I understand that the two of you spoke to Cadance recently, and that she cast a spell on you?”

“We don’t remember that,” said Peach. “But that’s what Opli here says.”

“I kind of remember it,” I admitted. “Um… would either of you like some coffee?”

“I’ve already had my cup,” said Opli Dexia.

Pink Coil just shook his head. “I’d like to start simply by looking at you both. Would you be more comfortable sitting?”

We went to the sofa and sat. The mage sat before us with perceptive magenta eyes and just looked at us for a while.

Peach spoke. “Do you want us to… think about something, or…”

“Not necessary,” he said. We sat in silence for a while longer.

Well, this wasn’t weird.

“All right,” Pink Coil eventually said. “I can perceive the spell. It’s powerful, and in casting it Princess Cadance was fortunate… or unfortunate, depending on perspective. It found fertile ground, so to speak, and lodged itself in well. I would suspect that you were both considering the other as a potential romantic partner already? Those channels in your minds are well trodden.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“It was him or someone else,” said Peach.

“May I ask whom?”

Peach looked embarrassed. “An earth stallion called George Harrison.”

“That doesn’t sound like a pony name.”

“It’s not his real name. But it’s what we call him.”

“May I ask his real name?”

Peach hesitated. “He told me what it is, but said he’d rather I didn’t tell anyone.”

This was news to me. Pink Coil was now looking exclusively at Peach.

“I’d like you to continue thinking about his real name,” said the mage. “Don’t worry, I won’t be able to extract it. I just want a closer look.”

Peach nodded and fell into concentration. From the entryway, Opli Dexia watched us nervously.

“Can you describe the nature of your affection for George Harrison, please?” muttered the old mage, still staring carefully.

Peach looked uncomfortable. “I can barely remember why I was… affectionate toward him. I love Ron.”

“If you can barely remember, then you can remember. Please tell me, in a few words, why you were considering him.”

Peach drew herself back against the back of the sofa. “Well…” She seemed on the verge of squealing. “George is… sophisticated. He’s really well traveled. He loves adventure. He’s brave. Doesn’t worry too much what people say about him. He has a great sense of humor… um… dry, I guess? But with a sort of… exotic flavor. Like humor with a twist. He takes things as they come… and doesn’t—” She stopped suddenly.

“He doesn’t?”

“He doesn’t let anything get the better of him,” Peach finished quietly. I flashed on the last time we’d seen George, at the club—it had felt like he’d taken a blow then.

“I see,” said Pink Coil. “And Ronald Pfeffer, here, is able to exceed all of that?”

Peach was abruptly incensed. “He’s amazing. He’s everything I want in a guy. Except he’s not a pony. But who cares? Who cares about that? How could I pass him over just because of the shape he was born in?!”

“Easy. I’m not making any judgment of that kind, Miss Spark. I’m just trying to get a sense of the problem.” After a few more seconds examining her, the mage turned to me. “And you, Mr. Pfeffer… were you romantically fond of Peach Spark before you were struck by my mistress’ spell?”

His mistress? Oh—he just meant he worked for Cadance. “I don’t… honestly trust myself to remember. I think I was.”

“Can you remember the last time you spent with Peach Spark before you attended Princess Cadance’s speech?”

“We… uh, we went to a coffeehouse together and mingled. We played with toys.”

“Think about that day. Do you remember anything about how you interacted with Peach Spark? Can you remember how you felt about her?”

I thought back. I’d actually been thinking more about Meg, until she’d shut me down in the end. “I was there to see a different girl… a human girl. I guess I’d given up on Peach… and I was trying to find someone else to date.”

Pink Coil was silent a moment. “When you say you’d given up on Peach Spark… do you mean that you no longer wanted to be entangled romantically with her, or that you had come to accept that she wouldn’t want you?”

It took a lot of effort to process my memories. “I thought she didn’t want me,” I finally decided.

“You’re certain?”

“Yeah.”

The mage nodded and softened his scrutiny. “That actually checks out. Well. I have some news you may consider either bad or good, as you will.”

I sat forward, nervous. “What’s that?”

“This spell has linked the two of you in too delicate a manner for me to attempt reversing. Were I simply to counter it, it might well shatter your feelings, leaving you cold toward one another. That is not acceptable, and it will therefore be necessary for the alicorn who cast the original spell to reverse it herself.”

Peach and I looked at each other. Opli Dexia looked disturbed. “Pink, I have _duties_ piling up.”

“I _know_ , Dexia. This is _necessary_. I don’t have the skill to untangle this harmlessly, and to just blast it out would be like… like… treating a sore by removing the patch of affected skin entirely. That isn’t an acceptable outcome.”

“Should we have gone to Shillelagh? Cadance said _you_ were the best at enchantments, and you didn’t deny it.”

“I _am_ better than Shillelagh at enchantments. I may even be better than _Cadance_ at enchantments. But for crying out loud, Dexy, I’m just a unicorn. The strongest spells need to be undone by those who cast them, and this is _strong._ ”

“So now we waste two days, on top of bumping someone’s appointment with Cadance, just to play relationship doctor. Is that really what we’re doing, Pink?”

“You knew this was a possibility. And are you really saying the princess doesn’t have half an hour of time tomorrow _somewhere_ in her schedule? Does it really mean bumping an appointment?”

The green crystal pony huffed and pulled a notebook from her vest, flipping it open with impressive facility. “She can have lunch in,” she conceded. “We can cut her trip to Green Pie’s, do it sometime next week.” Her tone was calmer as she turned to us. “I apologize for that exchange. Peach, Ronald, we’re going to have to take to you to the princess. Are you able to free up your schedules for today and tomorrow?”

Peach looked uncomfortable. “I’m supposed to work! Um… can I tell them it’s a magical emergency?” She looked at me. “Is this the sort of thing you can call in sick for?”

I had no idea. “Maybe you should say you’re actually sick,” I suggested. “I’ll have to do that for tomorrow too.”

“I can contact your places of work and let them know it’s a matter of international importance,” offered Opli Dexia. “And you will be compensated for lost wages within reason.”

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I was increasingly aware of the fact I could _not_ turn it down. “The princess is in Equestria, right? You’re saying you’ll be taking us to Equestria? To the Crystal Empire?”

“That is correct,” said Opli Dexia, looking uneasy about it.

“As I said, both good news and bad,” said Pink Coil.

I was filled with fear and excitement. “I have no idea how my boss would react to getting a call like that. I think I’d better just pretend I’m sick and see if I can find someone to cover. Can you give me thirty minutes?”

“Yes, although if we’re going to make it by noon tomorrow we’re in a bit of a hurry,” said Opli Dexia. “Pink, I’ll have paperwork for you to teleport.”

“Understood. Shall we wait outside?”

They waited while Peach and I stared frantically at each other. “This is crazy,” said Peach.

“Are you saying you don’t want to do it?”

“I don’t know, I guess we have to, but… wow. It’s crazy!’

“I know! But Peach, it’s not just our love thing. I’m going to get to visit Equestria! Do you know how few humans get to do that?”

“I know it’s hardly any. Invitation only. Okay, Pepper. We’ll go. But you know you won’t get to go touring. They’ll be taking us where they want us.”

“Even so. This is the most amazing thing that ever happened to me.”

“Really?” Peach stopped on her way to her dresser. “Even more amazing than meeting me?”

I blushed. “No. Not more than that. Just more sudden!”

Her worry was averted. “Yeah!” she replied, pulling open a dresser drawer. “This is crazy!”  
  


* * *

  
I was lucky—the second coworker I called agreed to cover for me. I was left with time to pack, but what do you pack for a trip to Equestria? Peach didn’t know. She was in almost as much a panic as I was. I thought of calling my mother and letting her know, ‘Mom, I’m going to Equestria!’ But that conversation wouldn’t go smoothly, nor should it. What if she called me at seven in the morning to say the same thing out of the blue? How would I react to that?

On impulse, I did call Laurie, though. She was a morning person; she picked up. I didn’t have time to describe what was happening in much detail, so I babbled fast.

“Ron, are you serious? Are you fucking serious? Wow, Ron. I don’t know what to—enjoy your trip, I guess!”

“I’ll try. Is there anything I should remember to do while I’m there? Given that I’m not deciding where to go?”

“Um… watch the weather ponies making weather? Have the local fruits and veggies, I know I would. If possible, plucked right off the plant!”

“I’ll try,” I said again.

Peach emerged from behind the bookcase with an orange bag of stuff. I packed a change of clothes and a notebook and made sure my phone was fully charged. I took sunscreen, in case the Equestrian sun was bad for human skin. I didn’t know what else to pack.

Knock knock. “Are you ready yet? May we come in?”

Peach answered the door. “We’re ready. What do we do?”

“We have a sky chariot waiting in the back parking lot,” said Opli Dexia. “Follow me, please.”

So we went down the back way and found the chariot waiting, with antiquated curves and stained wood, looking out of place among the cars. Two pegasi were waiting there, hitched up, a mare and a stallion—they turned to face us as we approached. Opli Dexia introduced us briskly, but I was so worked up I quickly forgot their names.

“I didn’t think you had pegasi in the Empire,” Peach remarked as she took her seat.

“Very few,” said Opli Dexia. “These two are on rent.”

“We’re from Manehattan!” announced the mare in a voice that left no room for doubt.

“They don’t have unicorns to speak of, either,” said Pink Coil with a hint of slyness. “I was imported, personally.”

“The monarchy needs a magestaff,” said Opli Dexia. “Most of our cities have at least one unicorn.”

“So we’re flying to the Crystal Empire?” I asked, excited almost beyond belief.

“We’ll go by chariot to the portal and to the train station on the other side,” said Pink Coil. “Then by train to Crystal City. If we don’t get detained too long at customs, we should arrive comfortably by tomorrow morning.”

I looked for a seat belt and found a red velvet cord, which I tied over my waist. “Is this safe? Is there someplace I hang on?”

“Sorry, these chariots aren’t made for humankind,” said the pegasus stallion. “Maybe you can use your arms to grip the seat in front of you?”

My arms were an excellent suggestion for what to use, so I did that. Having flown several times did not prepare me for liftoff, however. It was fast and it was powerful. I was pushed down in my seat and found myself fearing the whiplash when we stabilized.

These fliers were experienced, though, and there was no whiplash—we eased into a level course. It was fantastic to see the apartment building, then the neighborhood, and then the city from a rising angle. The rising sun was to our right, lifting my spirits. Cars slowly rumbled long below and the New York skyline loomed ahead—it felt like I was leaving my home for the last time. It felt like I was experiencing a season finale of my life.

“Woohoo!” cried Peach. “I never get to fly! What is this, the fifth time? Fourth? No, fifth time.”

“Maybe now you wish you’d fallen in love with a pegasus,” I joked.

She looked at me in surprise. “Nah, I’d get tired of it,” she said. “This is better.”

We were headed toward New Alliance Terminal, the brand new hexagonal building near Grand Central where the famous portal to Manehattan was housed. Its huge curved surfaces of white glass gleamed like a lotus blossom from afar, beckoning to us as we entered Manhattan airspace. There was an airplane in the distance, which made me wonder whether these charioteers had been cleared by air control. Aside from it and a single pegasus a long way off, the sky was ours.

Descent was a bit more difficult. I had to grasp Pink Coil’s seat to keep from rising uncomfortably, since I didn’t trust the velvet rope alone to keep me in my seat. My hair was a mess and my stomach was jostling with my lungs, but once we’d settled down I realized it had been an amazing ride. I laughed out loud. I felt something in my hair and jerked my hand up, but found it was just Peach using her magic to straighten it.

The pegasi let us out by the facility’s back door next to a parking lot, then continued with the chariot into an adjoining garage marked, oddly enough, “CHARIOT CHECK IN”. Opli Dexia led the way inside to a security station. She flashed her badge and we all passed through a junction and down a hallway. The walls were made of glass, but just behind the glass were long posters with the images and names of famous places and landmarks all over the world. Honolulu… Bangkok… Christ the Redeemer… the Arc de Triomphe… Mount Fuji… it went on and on.

I realized that this was the first impression any ponies fresh from Equestria would have of Earth. A display showing off some of the amazing options open for them to explore. I wondered if there was something similar on the other side.

“I remember this hallway,” said Peach.

“How did it make you feel?” I asked.

“Small. But… but good. Small in a good way.”

I set my hand on her head.

We emerged in a blue-carpeted lobby. Aside from a friendly-looking woman at a desk whose sign read “EARTH INFORMATION”, there was no one around. We passed into a processing center that was a little busier, with white walls and lots of lighting. Opli Dexia went up to someone at a counter and talked for a while. We sat and waited. Eventually, our ‘rented’ pegasi rejoined us, and before long a dark brown stallion in a tiny white buttoned shirt appeared from a narrow hallway and told us to follow him.

We were led to a small room where he and a pearl-colored colleague were waiting to interview us. At first I thought they were both earth ponies, but gradually I realized she was a crystal pony—brought in because our business concerned the Crystal Empire. They asked us all a number of questions about our purpose and timetable. Opli Dexia showed them her personal seal, and the crystal pony went off briefly to contact someone, presumably to verify that she really was ‘Princess Cadance’s right hoof mare’. They then asked me questions about my background, but the weirdest thing they asked me was a series of questions I could only assume were meant to gauge my personality:

“Can you tell us about a time when you felt like you’d betrayed somebody?”

“What was your first reaction when you learned that your world had made contact with ours?”

“Did you have any especially close friends during childhood? Tell us about them.”

“What would you say is the highest thing a person can aspire to in life?”

I answered as well as I could, but this last one baffled me—it even offended me a little. “It depends! It depends what kind of person they are and what they want to accomplish. For some people it might be raising a family. For some people it’s reconciliating with God and receiving, um, sanctifying grace. For others it might be, I don’t know, winning the respect of their community and becoming a leader.” They were looking at me with patient interest. “Maybe falling in love,” I concluded. “Maybe that’s the highest thing. No, that’s easy. Keeping it. Staying in love for a lifetime. That’s harder. That might be the highest thing you can aspire to.”

They wrote down the answer just like they’d written down all the others. “All right,” said the pearl-colored mare.

She went to a back room to confer with someone—her superior, I imagined. We all waited tensely. Pink Coil cleared his throat. Peach’s tail swept against my back, over and over.

The crystal mare came back, exchanged a quick word with the brown stallion, and turned to us. “You folks are clear to go through! Remember—you’ve pledged to stick to your travel plan and to return with Mr. Pfeffer by Wednesday night at the latest.”

“Agreed,” said Opli Dexia. She was given a document to sign; they even drabbled hot wax on the bottom so she could imprint her royal seal in it.

At last, yet another pony arrived to lead us to the portal. She was small, pale yellow and optimistic, with a happy-looking songbird for a cutie mark. “Hello, folks!” She led us around a curving hallway with low, carpeted ceilings. “For most of you, you’re making a brief trip home, yes? But you must be Ron Pfeffer,” she said to me.

“Yeah.”

“I understand this is your first trip to Equestria?”

“That’s right! I never thought I’d be coming.”

“I’m glad you’re getting the chance. Just three things to keep in mind. One—some ponies can be very sensitive to new ideas. While you’re in Equestria, please don’t talk about dark, scary things, and try not to talk about religion.”

I nodded, taking this in with some confusion.

“Two. Please don’t fraternize with the locals.”

“Wait. Fraternize? Does that mean I can’t be friendly, or…”

She paused in the hallway, smiling. “You can definitely be friendly! But since you’re only staying a short while, we’re asking you to refrain from developing any friendships meant to last more than the time you’ll be there, and not to become romantically involved with any ponies.”

I caught myself from glancing at Peach. Probably best not to bring her up. But if I was already involved with a pony, I couldn’t _become_ involved, right? “Okay. And third?”

“Remember that you won’t be allowed to take anything from Equestria home with you. Exports are strictly regulated.”

I was fine with this, but Peach asked, “Not even a pebble?”

“Not even that. The main reason for regulation is to stem the flow of magic to Earth, and even a pebble might carry an enchantment. You’ll be scanned for magical objects upon your return.” She looked between us. “Understand?”

We nodded.

The yellow attendant led us to a bend in the corridor to a bright security checkpoint. Posters with rainbows were the only splash of color in the otherwise white and gray room. A pair of unicorns scanned us with cone-shaped rays of magic that made energetic humming sounds as they passed over us. Even through Pink Coil was only wearing a cravat, he had room for several tiny objects in tiny pockets, which he removed before submitting himself to the scan. The security unicorns had a private conversation with him lasting five minutes and examined the objects carefully before he was allowed to reclaim them and go through.

Finally, the attendant led us along one last corridor in the shape of a tunnel, higher and made of yellowish metal. A strange light on the walls ahead of us warned me that the portal was coming. When I saw it, I was somewhat surprised to find that it was reflective. Flecks of white and ripples crossed the surface of the large shape making up the far wall of the central room; otherwise, what we saw it on was ourselves, staring. It was perfectly round, aside from a flat bottom that meant we wouldn’t have to jump; I suspected the bottom was actually under the floor.

“It’s perfectly safe, so long as you don’t dawdle,” said the attendant. “When you’re ready to go through, go ahead and cross. You can walk, you can jump, you can even fly—just so long as you don’t hesitate midway through.”

Peach couldn’t help herself. “Yeah, they said that when I came through the first time. What happens if you hesitate? Do you get cut in half?”

The attendant murmured cheerfully and directly into Peach’s ear: “How about we just not find out, shall we?”

Peach gave her a queer look. “Fine with me!”

“I’ll go first,” said Opli Dexia. “Then you can proceed, Miss Spark, and you, Mr. Pfeffer. Pink Sage will follow and the charioteers will come last.”

“All right,” I said, getting in line.

Opli Dexia simply walked straight into her own reflection; it was weird and funny seeing her disappear until she was a double-rumped creature, and then just a pair of tails waving like a magic ribbon. Peach reared up a little before going through at a trot. I set a brisk, confident stride and tried not to be nervous. It felt like _something_ when I hit the portal, but I couldn’t describe what. Something more substantial than static electricity, but less so than a curtain. I kept walking until I was well clear. I was faced with another room very much like the one I’d come from, but everything was obviously different, and I couldn’t tell exactly how.

The walls were dark yellow with a sheen that might have been sunshine shining through. A few ponies who were standing around all turned to stare at me. I saw the others coming through in my peripheral vision, but my focus was on following Peach.

“Wow,” I said to her. She felt like the only normal thing around me.

“You can tell the difference, huh?” she murmured.

“Yeah. There’s something about the way things look. Something in the air.”

Peach nuzzled my side as high up as she could reach. Then she flicked her tail. “Welcome to my world,” she said, a distant smile growing on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> So my Pony on Earth story first became a romance, and now it's somehow become a Human in Equestria story. Well, if stories didn't do unexpected things, they'd be a lot less beautiful!
> 
> The park with the paddleboat rentals that Ron takes Peach to is Warinanco Park in southwestern Elizabeth. Though I don't know if it actually has tulip trees!
> 
> Pink Coil is a character I invented for a one-on-one roleplaying adventure I had with a friend a couple of years ago. I was playing Princess Cadance and also providing characters and settings along the way; my companion, who provided the setting of our final destination, was a so-called storm pegasus who needed Cadance to unlock a tomb protected by alicorn magic in the distant reaches of the Crystal Empire. Pink Coil was originally the mage of a small city called Lytpa in the corner of the Crystal Empire. I decided to transplant him for this story.
> 
> What would you do if you knew you were going to lose a major part of your identity the next day?
> 
> What would you tell someone to do if they suddenly learned they were going briefly to Equestria?


	20. Quiet Game

I FELT like a giant stepping through a city made of building blocks, even though I wasn’t especially large compared to the inhabitants. Really, we were the same size--I was just taller. It also felt like every move I made was being carefully watched. The ponies in the lobby might have been waiting to go through the portal themselves, but more likely they were waiting for their own acquaintances to come through. Or maybe they were just people-watchers. Well, if so, they were getting an eyeful now.

There was another security checkpoint, just as bright as the one we’d already been through, but somehow… goofier? I couldn’t identify any concrete differences, except that the machines there seemed to have exaggerated features, like wheel joints that were too big and a panel of oversized buttons. Well, just big enough for hooves, really, so not oversized, but still. Pink Coil had to go through his collection of tiny items again, emptying his pockets and giving explanations. One of the guards was a man—short red hair and a grizzled complexion—other than that, it was just pony security on this side, too. It looked like ponies were pretty much the ones interested in keeping things safe.

No surprise, really. When negotiations had begun in late 2016, folks on Earth had been wary about talking ‘animals’ with magical powers showing up, but a few heavily guarded pony ambassadors had broken the ice, alleviated fears, and sparked a general desire to let more of our new Equestrian friends into our lives. Legislators, glad to get a break from election year drama, had rushed to grant visitation rights and visas and add language to the lawbooks making it clear that ponies were covered by the same laws as everyone else. The people recognized that a new civil rights moment was at hand; the left was eager to increase diversity and the right was eager to prove they weren’t racist.

And there was remarkably little racism against ponies, that old guy in the park notwithstanding. This wasn’t like Neolithic tribes meeting across the mountains of Turkey or the deserts of North Africa. It wasn’t like Japan opening its coasts after centuries of isolationism or British pilgrims meeting the peoples of North America. There was culture shock, but it was all the heady, excited kind, with frantic exchanges of information and new companies, even new industries starting up on both sides, and a million books and articles and websites coming out every week about how amazing it all was. Religion and cosmology, even science itself had gotten shaken up so much that it was all still settling, and probably would be for years. Presumably it had felt similar on the other side, though probably not as much—weird new magical things were something Equestrians were kind of used to.

But ponies themselves were easy to accept. They were easy to like and hard to hate. The pony haters were mostly in two camps—the ones who couldn’t believe how crazy the universe—or multiverse—had turned out to be, and the ones who despised their cheerful cuteness. People in the first camp, like Jack, didn’t really hate ponies, though: they were just alienated by the whole thing and turned to things like drink, hobbies and reactionary politics in order to cope. The cuteness haters caused some friction, but most of them came around once they started actually hearing the stories of real ponies who were hurt by insults and objectification. Go figure—once cute things are in pain, they aren’t so cute anymore… which meant it was kind of a self-solving problem.

The key point, I think, is that we _made_ them. (Or, as Peach would say, we might as well have.) You can’t hate creatures that you yourself made, not without hating that piece of yourself. As a species, we weren’t really able to hate ponies, or to deny their personhood. And of course, even though they were afraid of us at first, the idea of hating us never seemed to enter their _zeitgeist_. So there was no need for a pony civil rights movement—what we got instead was a bunch of conversations about what the politically correct way to relate to Equestrians was, and just how politically correct we should be expected to be.

On the other side of the coin, despite their good will, ponies were very wary from the start about letting humans into their world. You could call it xenophobia, but given our history, it seemed pretty reasonable. It wasn’t just that we had a propensity for warfare—it was that we knew how to take over new places and make them ours. Western culture especially knew how to win over a populace by buying politicians, building Starbucks and McDonalds, making its products indispensable to the locals and developing the land, bit by bit.

So once ponies started learning about us, there was this wave of apprehension about letting humans into Equestria. But I knew it wasn’t just about a desire to protect their home and their traditions, or even their industries. It was that there was something fundamentally lopsided about the whole thing. We had imagined ponies and their world, so they obviously represented something that we desired, even if it wasn’t a desire shared by all of us. But they hadn’t imagined us. We were their imaginers, a race that contained them somehow. We were higher than them. The folks who fiddle behind the scenes dreaming things up, and who are lot uglier than they wish they were.

It wasn’t hard to imagine why they didn’t feel as automatically at ease with us as we did with them.

I had my pockets searched, but thankfully didn’t have to take off any clothes. Once we were past security, we came to another lobby with another booth like the Earthside one, this one with a sign reading “EQUESTRIA INFORMATION”. A cheery-looking yellow mare sat there, a blossom in her hair, her forehooves neatly together. I indicated her with my shoulder, and when Opli Dexia didn’t object, I wandered over. “Hey.”

“Hello! Welcome to Equestria! Is there anything you’d like to know about our land?”

“Well…” The fact that I wasn’t free to wander put a crimp on anything I’d be interested in knowing. Somehow, I felt like I should have a thousand questions, but none came to me. “Uh, do you have any maps of the area around the train line to the Crystal Empire?”

She didn’t have a map that specific, but she had one of the Empire Line and one of the Temperate North, so she gave them both to me, along with a booklet called “Welcome to Equestria!” Then I had another important thought—”Oh! Can I exchange U.S. dollars for bits, or…?”

“I’m afraid our system still has high exchange fees, but it is possible! You can visit the bank on your way out.”

“We can pay for your basic expenses,” interjected Opli Dexia, “and perhaps buy you a souvenir or two.”

“That’s nice of you.” I tried not to contemplate whether I would have done better trying to sue Princess Cadance. It was a horrible thought, even if she had complicated my already complicated love life. “I should probably get some cash anyhow.”

“You never know what crazy thing you might want to buy!” added Peach.

I had the feeling there were things I’d regret not asking the EQUESTRIA INFORMATION pony, but I couldn’t think what they were. “You must not get a whole lot of people asking you questions, do you?” I asked.

“No sir! I’m normally a baggage attendant! But they gave me special training so I can run up here wherever a visitor comes through!”

I glanced at Peach and found her biting her lip in amusement. “Do you enjoy your job?” I asked.

She grew solemn for a brief moment. “Why sir, I only love, love, love it!” The moment was past.

“Mr. Pfeffer, I think we can provide any further information you need,” said Opli Dexia impatiently. “This way, please!”

We passed through a long, curving hallway with features and cities from Equestria, just like the one we’d seen on the other side. “Starlight’s Village”—an aerial shot showing the newly paved street that cut the two rows of houses at a diagonal, turning the equals sign into an unequals. “The Las Pegasus Strip”—a ground-level image of a lavishly lit nighttime street, a huge pair of wings outlined in blue lights extending from the tallest building. “Visit Foal Mountain”—an expansive blue range of mountains with gray slopes and peaks over a lush green valley. “Oh look, there’s one for Ponyville!” chimed Peach, pointing out a picturesque image of the growing town not too different from those in the show’s opening sequence.

We emerged into a larger area with more translucent yellow walls that curved into the ceiling. We passed by one more security station—in the background I noticed a quartet of classic pony guards with helmets and spears, sitting at a table and playing with wooden dice. We went through a large double door, and—

Oh god, that sun!

No, my skin wasn’t burning off. And my eyes quickly adjusted, since what I was seeing wasn’t brightness alone. I didn’t understand how sunlight could seem so different from what I was used to, but it was utterly alien, and I cringed, afraid.

“Are you okay?” asked Peach.

A cloth settled over my head with the shimmering sound of levitation magic. Funny how I was getting used to what that sounded like. I opened my eyes and found that the world was rose-tinted.

“Some humans find Celestia’s sun difficult to stomach at first,” said Pink Coil. “You may want to wear this for a while.”

So I tied the pink gauze cloth he’d somehow produced like a blindfold over my eyes. The sunlight felt warm. Soothingly, weirdly warm. Kind of like the heat you get under your skin when you realize you’re about to get a sunburn… only it didn’t hurt. And there were ponies everywhere, of course, even though it wasn’t even nine in the morning yet. They were looking at me; I didn’t know how to react. Ponies in the sky looked down as they flew from one building to another. One was punching a cloud forward with its head. There was a cart of turnips? …beets? …with a stocky old stallion pulling it. Broad paved roads and majestic black streetlamps. Buildings tall and short with roofs that tilted before going flat. Towering walls with flags, friezes and awnings round and square, short and long. There wasn’t really any individual element I hadn’t already seen in New York or even Newark, but altogether the effect was amazing.

“Welcome to Manehattan, Mr. Pfeffer!” said Opli Dexia, striding proudly. “This is the most populous of all pony cities, the second largest in area, and, excluding the Star Steeple at Nicker’s Knoll, the tallest! It was founded over twenty-three hundred years ago, originally built around Madame Cross’s Haberdashery, which became the core of a new and prosperous city granting access to the Celestial Sea. It was originally called ‘Mane Hat Town’, due to the lack of nearby shade resulting in the need for protective headgear, and was briefly known as New Hamsterdam following the Funfestation of 517 CYP. Manehattan features such attractions as Valentine Square, the Equestria Building, the Museum of Equid History, and of course the picturesque Statue of Harmony.”

“That’s pretty neat,” I mumbled.

“Yeah it totally is, isn’t it?” said Peach. “You sure you’re okay? Oh hey, we have to wait here anyway for our charioteers to get back. You could go get some bits from the bank.”

The structure she was pointing to was shaped like a pig protruding from the side of the dome we’d exited from. …The bank was actually shaped like a pig. I raised the bandanna for a moment, and sure enough, it was still pink.

“Do all your banks look like that?” I asked Peach.

“Oh, no, just the fancy ones.”

I went in, Opli Dexia following promptly along. She apparently didn’t want to leave me alone for a moment. It was a small annex to the terminal, but there were half a dozen ponies in there, and every one of them turned to stare at me, even the clerk wearily counting bits one by one from a huge pile some frowning customer had dumped out on the counter. Not wanting to look like a robber, I pulled down the bandanna and grinned, but it didn’t help.

“Don’t worry, everypony,” said my chaperone. “This is a guest from New Jersey, Earth, and he means no harm.”

These words did soften the mood, so I went over and discovered that my ninety dollars was good for only thirty-seven bits. I knew that a bit was worth significantly more than a dollar, but this still seemed like a pretty poor deal. Still, I took it, since whatever was about to happen to me here seemed a lot more important than whatever I’d spend that ninety bucks on once I got home.

The pegasi were back with our chariot when we got out of the bank, so we packed in again. “Whatdya think of Equestria so far?” asked the pegasus stallion.

“It’s bright,” I ventured.

He smiled and lifted his wings. “Sure is!” With that, we were in the sky again.

* * *

From the Manehattan sky, I was able to get a better look at the various buildings, with their ornaments and colors and gargoyles—at least one of which seemed to be moving. There were other chariots and lone pegasi around us, and occasionally our chariot had to dodge around. Once, a wisp of low-hanging cloud dangled down toward us, and it _poofed_ as it hit us as if we were blowing it to bits! It felt like getting caught by the edge of a sprinkler in summer, and it smelled vaguely like cotton candy. Coconut, I thought.

That’s when Peach started laughing continuously, and the only way I could think to stop her was to hug her head to my belly, so that’s what I did. We held each other close and waited for the ride to end.

Once we touched down at the train station, I pulled off the pink bandanna and found I was pretty much used to the Equestrian sun. I realized that even though it looked weird, it also looked _right_ , and felt right, as though the real sun were just a lousy copy and this was what a sun was always supposed to be. Leaving my skin uncovered seemed like a risk, but a good risk—almost a leap of faith.

We said goodbye to our faithful charioteers, who were both in an excellent mood. It was obvious they savored the Equestrian part of their jobs more than the Earthside part. “Time to head back to dispatch,” said the pegasus mare, hitching herself up to the empty chariot. “Was nice meetin’ ya!”

“Yeah, have a good one!” echoed her partner as they took to the sky.

The train station had a high ceiling, a musty wet smell and old fashioned turnstiles. We stood in line and purchased tickets without incident. Then we emerged into the open and waited on a broad concrete platform. It was forty minutes until our train was due, so we found benches and relaxed. Opli Dexia consulted privately with Pink Coil, who apparently possessed some form of magical long-distance communication, while Peach just lay there, watching the world with loving eyes.

“How does it feel to be home?” I asked.

“This is only kind of home,” she said. “I’m not used to big cities. But I like this city better than Elizabeth. It feels good and clean. Like it’s more right for me.”

“I don’t blame you at all. I like it better here, too.”

There was a morning breeze carrying scents that I… could only think of as somehow better _rounded_ than the scents at home. They were well defined, but flowed into each other—trees, water, hay, pretzels, cows, fresh air, faraway places. It was like scents were more than just molecules bouncing randomly through the air—it was like they were invented just so that noses could grab them.

A little white filly with braided blond hair walked up, her mother trailing behind. “What’re you?” she asked in the cutest voice.

“I’m a human,” I told her.

She gaped openly for way too long.

“I just came here through the portal,” I explained.

She blinked way too obviously. “Is it true that humans eat horse meat?” she asked, more astonished than afraid.

Um. I hesitated. “We, uh… well, _I_ don’t. I guess some humans do. It’s… not something you do in my country, but some countries… eat horse meat, I guess.”

The filly seemed almost delighted, but her mother stepped angrily up. “How can you _do_ that? I could understand it if you’d never heard of ponies, but your people have ponies in your stories! You imagined ponies on your own, didn’t you, even before you’d met us! How could you eat horse meat at the same time?”

The question was confusing and seemed to be based on misconceptions, but I stumbled through an answer. “Honestly, the horses we have are a lot different from ponies. When we imagined… ponies, we put a… a lot of ourselves into them. The better parts of ourselves. Mainly.”

“Do you think that excuses eating horse?” persisted the mare.

“Um, probably not? Especially not now that we… know each other. But I guess there are… poor people who don’t have any other choice? Or they’re just so used to using horse meat they can’t give it up? I don’t honestly know—like I said, we don’t do it where I come from.”

This earned exactly the “Humph!” and upturned nose I might have expected, and the mare turned and walked away. Her daughter switched her attention quickly back and forth several times before following. At least she didn’t seem upset with me.

“I think eating meat in itself is pretty weird,” remarked Peach. She’d said similar things when we’d gone out to eat, and we’d had a conversation or two on the subject. “Who came up with that in the first place? It’s like, someone offered someone else a salad, and said, ‘Salad?’ And they were like, ‘No thanks, I have a better idea—let’s try eating ANIMALS! Like that squirrel over there!’ ‘What? But, it’s just, you know, a creature like us, trying to get along. Do you really think it would taste good?’” She rose and puffed her chest. “‘Oh, of course, it’s furry and full of blood--I’m sure it’ll taste DELICIOUS!’” She licked her lips, then sat down. “That was my human impression.”

I smirked. “It was a pretty good one. You know, our ancestors, way way back, didn’t eat meat. We started doing it, I don’t know, when we were still a lot like apes. We were probably pretty hungry back then.”

“And you just got in the habit and couldn’t give it up, huh?”

“I guess. But to be fair, meat is really good. I mean… we need certain nutrients, right? We’re animals. What’s more likely to have those nutrients—plants, or other animals?”

Peach tilted her head. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

That fact made me oddly proud of myself.

* * *

The train arrived with a wheeze and a whistle, and ponies poured out. A lot of them lingered to stare at me, some murmuring to their companions, but no one bugged me while I was getting on the train. Opli led the way to a semi-private compartment—two rows of seats facing each other, but connected directly to the main corridor with no door for privacy. We put our bags in an overhead bin and settled in. I wanted to laugh at how familiar things were in some ways, but how amazingly different they were in others.

Like, for example, there was a _dragon_ on the train. It was adolescent-sized and bright yellow, of all colors—I saw it loping or trotting down the corridor a few times, carrying luggage and wearing one of those Russian-style furry caps. I even caught Peach staring down the corridor at it in wonder.

“We’ll be stopping in Hollow Shades for lunch, then skirting past Neighagra Falls,” said Opli Dexia. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a line directly along the Crystal Mountains yet, so we’ll have to go all the way through Canterlot and around west through the Unicorn Range to get to the Empire.”

“Hollow Shades—that sounds familiar,” I said.

“That’s where Twilight Sparkle is, isn’t it?” asked Peach.

Opli Dexia raised her eyebrows. “I suppose you’ve been following the show from Earthside? Yes, she’s been conducting animal behavior research in Hollow Shades. I have it good authority, however, that she’s returning to Ponyville, perhaps as soon as today.”

“Good authority?” asked Peach.

Opli smiled wanly. “Her brother happens to be married to my employer.”

“Oh, right.” Peach suddenly sat up straight. “Wait. She’s going to Ponyville? She travels by train, doesn’t she? She can’t teleport that far, right? And she doesn’t have a private train, does she?”

Opli Dexia looked consternated, while the mage beside her looked amused. “Yes, she travels by train, when she isn’t going by chariot, and no, she doesn’t have a private one, or even a private car. She prefers to mingle with the populace.” She looked between Peach’s stupid grin and my dawning expression. “But before you two get your hopes up, keep in mind the chance of her taking _this particular train_ is quite slim.”

Peach’s grin just got bigger. “I dreamed of meeting a princess my whole life,” she said. “I just got to meet Cadance last week, and now maybe I get to meet _Twilight_ too?”

The crystal pony sighed.

Pink Coil made a ‘tut-tut’ sound. “It isn’t good to crush hopes, Dexi. There aren’t any recipes these days that call for crushed hopes.”

Opli made a ‘pff’ sound and leaned against the wall. “We should arrive at the Empire by nine or so tonight, assuming no unexpected _complications._ ”

“Then we spend the night and see Cadance in the morning?”

“Lunch, more likely, given her schedule. Then back on the first train and we’ll have you back through the portal by midnight.”

It didn’t sound like much fun. Two days of traveling only to be put _out_ of love, and no doubt we’d both be beat for work the next day. But it was Equestria, land of magical beings. It was two boring, long days I’d remember for a lifetime, and so there was no way they’d _actually_ be boring.

Peach and I commandeered the window seats and scooted up to watch things go by. We’d started out on flat ground, but it had given way to different colored hills. One hill was covered with cantaloupe vines, farmers all over it filling wooden carts with freshly harvested melons. Another hill had a big gabled building on it made of painted beams and timbers, with ponies milling around—it looked a lot like a church. Oddly enough, though, I realized that I’d never heard of a church in Equestria.

I tapped the window as we passed by. “Is that a church?”

Peach tugged the glass window down into its holding slot, exposing us to the wind so she could get a better look. “That’s a stage! I think they’re getting ready for a play.”

“You’re sure? Even with that steeple thing on top?”

“Yep! That’s a belfry. They use the bell to call ponies to the show when it’s starting! It’s a lot more common out here than it is back home.”

I slid away from the open window—Opli Dexia and Pink Coil had noticed the wind, but didn’t raise any objections. “Do you even have churches in Equestria?” I asked Peach.

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think so. What exactly is a church? A place for worshiping God?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“Well then no, ‘cause we don’t have God.”

What a weird way of putting it. “Don’t ponies have any beliefs about where they came from?”

She nudged me playfully. “Didn’t you guys make us up? Memories and everything?”

I had to admit her cavalier attitude about it was more satisfying than the old angsty Peach. “Come on,” I said. “This world has a history. What do you think was at the start of it?”

“Depends how far back the start is.” We were watching the hills gradually get subsumed by trees. “A long time ago, ponies didn’t have cutie marks. We didn’t come in all colors, either—just boring colors like brown and black and gray. And there weren’t any unicorns or pegasus ponies either.”

“I think I read about that. How did everything change?”

She smiled a clever little smile. “Bit by bit!”

I tousled her mane. “So where did cutie marks come from?”

“There’s legends about that. I don’t think anypony really knows, though. They were around before wings or horns. They were probably even around before our colors were. Before we had industry. Maybe even before we could talk. I think they might’ve been what started it all.”

“Then where do you think they came from?” I asked.

She was silent for a long time, looking out the window, her mane blowing. “I think a long time ago, someone had something they really wanted to be,” she murmured. “And it showed through. Maybe they found a way to make it show through, or maybe it just happened.” She swatted her own rump twice with her tail. “But it mattered enough to them that their children got it too. And their children, and their children, and pretty soon? It was everyone. Everyone cared.”

I wanted to hug Peach Spark and stroke her, but with the royal assistant and the royal mage watching, I didn’t dare. “But how… how do you make a cutie mark appear in the first place? Things don’t just appear because you care about them.”

“I guess it was magic,” she speculated. “Magic came first, and magic makes people connect to what they care about.”

“It does?”

She looked oddly at me. “Of course!”

It was like she was asking, _what did you think magic was for?_ “I thought magic was good for making doves come out of hats and balls show up under cups,” I teased.

She looked offended for a moment, but then softened. “Magic is what connects what’s in our souls to reality. I think that’s what I’ve decided.”

Wow. That was a lot to take in. “So… if there’s enough magic in the air, cutie marks just appear?”

“Or something like them, yeah!”

“Then why doesn’t every creature in Equestria have a cutie mark?”

“Everyone has their own magic. It shows up in different ways. Dragons make sacred treasures that they pour their souls into. That’s what I heard, anyway. And donkeys have natural hairstyles that reflect their personalities.”

“But where else does this connection show up?”

She was standing on the seat now. “Everywhere! What does it mean to do magic? It means you’ve taken what’s in your heart, or your soul, and made it real!” She flipped up the hem of my shirt in an aura of electric blue. “It’s where what’s inside you meets the real world. Where things really happen the way you think they ought to, instead of the way they really do.”

“So… magic is when things don’t happen the way they do?”

“You know what I mean!”

I wasn’t sure I did, but I could see her point. “I can see why we might want to imagine a world like that,” I said.

Peach shut her mouth and sat in thought. Behind her, in a glow of blue, she closed the window.

“I feel bad for Earth now,” she said eventually. “You don’t have magic. Unless that’s what God is?”

“We don’t usually use the word ‘magic’ for what God does. But God is supernatural.”

“Supernatural?”

“Above nature. If nature is ‘the way things really work’, God is above that.”

Peach swished her tail. “What does God do?”

I sighed. “You know, they told me not to talk to ponies about religion.”

Peach’s tail swatted the wall in anger. “I don’t count! I was on Earth with you! I took the plunge!”

I leaned in and hugged her. “You’re a plunge taker.”

“I take all the plunges until there’s none left for other people. But don’t weasel out of it! What does God do?”

“I don’t honestly know. I’m not even sure if I believe in God at all. I was raised Catholic, kind of. But it was just my mother doing it, my father didn’t believe. We stopped going to church when my sister and brother and me were teens.”

Peach looked confused. “Does that mean it was all a waste of time?”

“I don’t think so.” I had to think about why, though. “It stuck with me. It’s a part of who I am. I don’t know… even if none of it is true, it was good to be given a way to understand how the world works and why we are what we are. Imperfect, but capable of wanting to be better. It all fit together so well…”

“If it fit together, why don’t you think it’s true?”

I shrugged and looked out the window at the massing green forest. “Sometimes, if something fits too well, it’s too easy to be right.”

Peach considered that a while. “What is sanctifying grace?”

I looked at her, surprised. “Where’d you hear that term?”

“You used it! When they were asking you about what a person’s highest aspiration might be. That was one of your answers. So what is it?”

I took a deep breath. “It’s what makes you capable of existing forever, in Heaven, with God. It’s the state of not having any mortal sin. You receive it at baptism, when your original sin gets washed away.”

“What’s original sin?”

Somehow I’d known that question would be next. “It’s the stain on all newly born human beings, left over from the first humans who lived. They ate a forbidden fruit, and were cast out forever from paradise. That’s the story, anyway.”

Peach seemed even more interested than before. “Humans used to live in paradise?”

“Back when the world was new, yeah. Everyone did.”

“So where is it now?”

“It’s gone. Some people say they know where the Garden used to be… but one way or another, it got wrecked and it isn’t around anymore.”

“So really, religion is about getting back the paradise your species lost a long time ago. Is that fair to say?”

I smiled. “Well, you could see Catholicism that way, anyhow. Maybe not _every_ religion.”

Peach was getting excited. “I think that’s what makes us different. It might even be the _big_ thing that makes us different. Ponies started out in a drab boring world, and we’ve been making it better and better all the while we’ve been around. But humans… started out in paradise, and it’s been slipping away. And more than anything, you just want to get it back!”

I held my breath. Could she be right?

“I don’t think we really came from paradise,” I said eventually. “I think we just tell ourselves that in order to explain why things aren’t the way we wish they were.”

“But it doesn’t really matter whether you _really_ came from paradise,” said Peach. “What matters is that you _think_ you did.”

“Why?”

Peach gestured out the window at Equestria passing by. “Because that explains it,” she said.

And I realized what the big question Peach was working on really was. The big question that was always on her mind. It wasn’t where magic came from, or how the world began, or even what made humans and ponies different. It was this: Why did humanity dream up Equestria? What was it about them, and about us, that made their world exactly what we thought we needed?

What I didn’t tell her was that humanity had imagined a whole lot of other worlds, too. Dark ones, grueling ones—worlds where no one could ever be trusted and nothing ever made a difference. Worlds about our own future, noble and exciting and terrifying. Worlds where heroes labored to save everything from destruction. Worlds where everything had already been destroyed.

I didn’t remind her that those worlds existed. They hadn’t gotten in touch with us, after all. They could wait.

* * *

I spent a lot of the next few hours hanging out with the yellow dragon. If you’d told me I’d be saying that even a month before… well, it would still be pretty weird, since how would you have known? But he and I had one thing in common—we were each the only one of our species on board. And that made us both outsiders.

Making his acquaintance was almost absurdly easy—I just walked up, and he spun around with a surprised expression and said “Oh, hi!” and offered to shake hands. I guessed he didn’t get to do a lot of hand shaking in pony lands. He introduced himself as Grigorius the Unrelenting, “but you can call me Grig.”

“Are you a human?” he asked with fascination.

“Yeah! And you’re a dragon?”

“Yeah! What are you doing on this train?”

So I told him my story, and he told me about how he was working for a pony silversmith researching new ways to flatten and purify metals, especially nickel, and how they were on their way to Canterlot to meet with a prominent smith there and discuss techniques and marketability, and he was really excited, not so much because of the meeting as because he’d just never gotten to go to Canterlot before, and he wanted to see the mines in the mountain, and the Great Promenade, and of course the royal palace… well, let me just say that if only every new encounter fell into place so easily, the world would be a lot less complicated.

We wandered up and down the train a little, talking about love spells and pony romance and nickel-copper alloys and why anvils are shaped the way they are. He introduced me to his boss (a thick-hewn, big-voiced silver stallion in a pair of rubber shorts that seemed more indecent than just going bare), and I invited him back to our compartment for lunch, where he was welcomed easily enough. Peach was obviously almost as excited as I was to meet a dragon for the first time, but at least she’d _seen_ them before. True to form, she asked some of the basic questions about just _being_ a dragon that I’d been too shy for, and I was glad she did because Grig wasn’t offended at all. He said that dragons had a tradition of skilled and creative metalworking, and that their metalworking traditions had a lot to do with trying to reproduce the qualities of their scales, which led to a different approach than that used by typical blacksmiths, but the fact that they were strong and could breathe fire and resist heat helped a lot as well.

“How much heat can you stand?” Peach asked.

Grig laughed. “Well, pony faucets don’t go hot enough to give me a good shower!”

Lunch was served on the train, although passengers were invited to get out and wander Hollow Shades for half an hour if they felt like it. By the time we pulled to a stop, we were immersed in bluish green foliage so thick I couldn’t tell which bits belonged to which tree. Now and then, glowing eyes were visible in the depths of the trees—and it was noon!

“Some wildlife they have here, huh?” I remarked.

“This forest is said to be haunted,” said Opli Dexia in a more or less matter-of-fact tone. “The animals here act out more than typical animals. It’s believed that they do so because of the presence of their ancestor spirits all around them, inciting them to action.”

That actually rang a bell, weird though it was. “Oh yeah, I remember that from the last _Life in Equestria_. All those hedgehogs that just wouldn’t settle down, and kept getting under everyone’s feet. Er, hooves.”

“Precisely.”

“It is said,” said Pink Coil, “that a person can’t understand how strong the pull of their departed kin can be until they’ve felt it directly.”

“Pull of their departed kin? Is that even really a thing?” asked Peach, echoing my thought.

“It is,” said the sage. “I experienced it once, shortly after my father passed away. In my hour of need, I managed to call both him and my departed mother to my presence while I studied a spell. It was their influence that spurred me to cast it on myself, rather than waiting for a normally suitable test subject.”

“That seems strange,” said Opli Dexia, queen of understatement.

“Why did they do that?” I asked.

Pink Coil shrugged. “That’s simply the kind of people they were. Triers, not waiters.”

“Wow.” I didn’t even bother to question the validity of the whole concept of lingering spirits. It was huge and weird, but not much more than everything else around me, and I was in no position to argue.

The meal was very pony-centric. Open-faced flower sandwiches with watercress and tomato. A little thing of radish sprouts. Bundled hay sticks in various flavors--I tried one and decided I didn’t like it. The sprouts were too spicy, but the sandwiches were pretty decent. I covered mine in some light orange condiment they called Loyalty Sauce. (No one knew why it was called Loyalty Sauce, unless it was that the flavor was addictive.) Grig, on the other hand, liked the sprouts and didn’t mind the hay sticks, so he gave me half his sandwich. He supplemented his meal by crunching down a huge tourmaline right in front of us. I wondered how much a gem that size would sell for on Earth—no wonder the exchange rate was still settling out.

Suddenly I got that skin-crawling sense you get when something’s about to happen. There was a lot of talking coming from the nearby cars, and a lot of ponies were moving past us. Peach’s ears went up and she slipped into the corridor. “What’s happening?” I heard her ask somepony.

I followed her, and the others followed me. The way through the next passenger car was packed. I had trouble hearing anything useful in all the hubbub., until a name rang clear:

“…Princess Twilight…!”

Peach spun to me, her face frozen in excitement: mouth open, ears taut, eyes hoping.

Opli Dexia pushed past me into the corridor. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

“Is it her?” I asked. “Is it Twilight Sparkle?”

The royal assistant stared down the train toward a place where, two cars away, a knot of ponies had formed. We witnessed a glimmer of magical magenta in the midst of them.

Opli Dexia turned back toward our seats, where Pink Coil was smiling.

“Oh, did she choose this train after all?” he asked innocently.

“Did you… did you…”

Pink Coil stepped down from his seat, his long, coiled tail dragging. “I may have sent word to Cadance which train we were on. And she may have had Shillelagh say something to Twilight—I can hardly be held accountable if she did.”

Opli’s gape quickly turned into a glare. She didn’t hold it for long, though—she wanted to get to the crowd before Peach did. It quickly became a race between them. I just stood there, letting ponies brush past me. It was neat feeling their svelte coats against my shirt.

Grig came up behind me. “You’re not going to try and meet her?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what I would say to her.”

He moved past me, trying not to push but clearly eager. “She wrote a treatise on the hazing behavior of adolescent dragons. I want to tell her about _my_ friends! Maybe she’d want to write a follow-up!”

I thought back to that pony episode I’d watched with Peach at Wal-Mart. Again, the weirdness of it having been _real_ hit me. I found myself wondering how things had gone with Peewee the phoenix before Spike had returned him to his parents in the wild.

But then, as everyone congregated around Princess Twilight Sparkle in a big hubbub, I turned to wondering whether something was wrong with me. If everyone else apparently had something to ask or tell one of the most important ponies in the world, then why didn’t I?

The whistle blew, the train started to move again, and a lot of ponies went back to their seats. I got a clear glimpse of Twilight as she walked away—I remember her tail swishing more than I would have expected. Maybe it had something to do with having her own reality show—being a TV celebrity would probably make anyone swanky.

I imagined talking to Barrett or Laurie later and explaining that I’d been on the same train as Twilight Sparkle and hadn’t talked to her. Would that be horrible? It made me seem kind of pitiful, but I honestly didn’t want to bother her. And at least Peach was getting her chance to meet another princess—she was with the crowd on the other side of a closed door. Opli Dexia apparently was too, but Grig came back to sit with me. We finished our lunches and chatted about metals and technology and the progress of science. I felt like I didn’t know nearly enough about how metals are used on Earth to satisfy him, but he was still really glad for the chance to talk to me. Pink Coil sat reading a scroll the whole time, but he put in something about the experimental method or some famous pony inventor now and then.

One thing led to another, and eventually, believe it or not, Grig and I started arm wrestling. He beat me every time, but not as easily as I might have guessed. He then suggested pitting his tail against my arm, so why not? I went for it, and we were in the middle of that when Peach and Opli Dexi finally came back. Peach immediately started rooting for me without any context whatsoever, and that may have been how I was able to win. I slammed the dragon’s tailtip to the padded seat in triumph and then let go, bowled over by how ridiculous my life had become. I imagined myself telling the folks at work: I couldn’t be there Monday because I’d been busy tail-wrestling with a yellow dragon. It was hard even imagining that conversation.

Peach gave me a hug and started telling me about how she’d been part of a crowd of ponies all asking Twilight Sparkle questions. Twilight had handled things like a press conference, taking questions one by one, with Spike recording the whole thing on his giant handheld camera. Someone had asked Twilight about her time at Celestia’s Academy for Gifted Unicorns, for example, which Peach had loved hearing about. When it was Peach’s turn, she’d asked Twilight how she’d felt when she first learned about Earth’s existence. Twilight had swallowed and thought about it—Peach was proud of that—and said that it had shaken her deeply, but also stirred her curiosity in the extreme. In the first few weeks after the God-Tremor was dissolved, Twilight had come up with a good three dozen ideas for experiments or monographs relating to Earth, and she’d told the crowd that she really wished she could spend more time there, but her duties meant leaving Equestria for long wasn’t a good idea—”You never know when you’ll be needed!”

In turn, Peach had told her that she was living on Earth to try to discover the answers about who we really are deep down, and Twilight had told Peach she was a brave pony and that she should keep up the good work. Peach was so proud of that! She threw her front legs around me and squealed. My heart started beating really hard, and I hugged her lightly and tried not to think about being embarrassed in front of the Crystal Empire officials. It was easy, really—I just remembered how much I loved her.

I glanced over and saw Grigorius, smiling the most tender smile. He obviously really liked seeing me and Peach as a couple. Opli Dexia, on the other hand, sighed.

“I don’t want this to be harder than it has to be,” she said in response to our vulnerable looks.

“I don’t want to get unzapped,” said Peach, squeezing me around the belly. “I’m only doing this ‘cause it’s gonna wear off whether I like it or not.”

Pink Coil clucked his tongue.

Peach looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He exhaled slowly, his curly pink mane quivering. “You _could_ ask Cadance to renew it. She does that, you know. For couples who believe they’re meant to be together, but whose love has faded. It’s practically the only time she lets herself use her talent anymore.” His tone suggested he thought it was a travesty for anyone to neglect their ‘talent’.

“I saw her do that with a couple friends of mine, at the mixer,” I said.

Opli was staring daggers at Pink Coil. “How can you even _think_ that might be a good idea? They live on _Earth!_ They couldn’t visit her for regular applications, on top of which there are the complications you mentioned.”

Pink Coil sighed and stretched out along two seats. “I know, Dexi. I simply believe in the importance of brainstorming.”

She glared, then quietly _hmphed._

Peach and I quietly took our seats by the window, where she kept telling me about how neat it had been to meet the Princess of Friendship in person. I decided I probably actually liked it better this way.

* * *

But the coolest part of the trip was probably that afternoon. Peach and I had asked for pillows—the train had plenty--and fallen asleep against each other. I was half-dreaming of something I couldn’t quite remember afterwards, but which I think had to do with some authority finally giving me my cutie mark, when I was awakened by an unassuming and almost frighteningly familiar voice:

“Oh… hello! I’d heard there was a dragon on board, and I just couldn’t leave without seeing if it was true.”

I sat up and tried to collect my thoughts. I wasn’t still dreaming, was I? Nope. I really was on a train in Equestria. And… was that really _Fluttershy_ standing at the end of our row of seats?

My mind refused to give any answer aside from: Yes. Yes it is.

“Oh my gosh, Fluttershy!” murmured Peach as she came awake. “I forgot she was traveling with Twilight! But it makes sense she’d be here too!”

Grig was sitting politely with his claws almost touching. “I _am_ a dragon!” he replied to Fluttershy, as if it wasn’t obvious. Well, to be fair, I _had_ asked him when we’d first met. “I’m on my way to Canterlot with my boss!”

“Oh, yes. I spoke with your… your employer, and he said you were traveling on this car…” The world-famous pegasus looked at me. “Oh, my. I didn’t know there was a human here, too!”

She was a lighter yellow than Grig was. Cleaner, too, since he had scales of different sizes, and Fluttershy just had downy hair. “Hi there,” I said, feebly waving my hand. “I’m Ron.”

She looked intimidated by me despite my obvious lack of togetherness. “…Wh…what brings you to Equestria, Ron?”

“Kind of a long story,” I said. “Princess Cadance made me fall in love with Peach Spark here by mistake, so we’re going to get that fixed.”

“…Oh.” Fluttershy scuffed the rug outside the compartment and looked for something to say. “Well, I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s the best thing that ever happened to us!” chirped Peach.

“Was it really? Well in that case, I’m glad,” decided Fluttershy, striking a brave stance in favor of best things that ever happened. She looked back to Grig, who was watching humbly. “I’m guessing you know who I am.”

Grig looked embarrassed. “I guess you’re a really famous pony? I don’t actually know.”

Fluttershy blushed and lowered her head for a moment. “I’m sorry. I guess I got a little bit full of myself. Sometimes, with all the fuss, I forget that not everyone has heard of me. I… I’m…I’m…”

Opli Dexia struck the floor with a hoof. “Her name is Fluttershy and she was the bearer of the element of kindness,” she informed Grig.

“Aw, we were having fun watching her try to tell him!” complained Peach.

Grig’s face lit up. “Oh! I _have_ heard of you! But… but I thought you were afraid of dragons.”

Fluttershy took a step back and blushed again. “Well… I am. Or rather… I was. But ever since I overcame my fear and spoke to a very naughty dragon… I’ve been trying to get over it. I’ve come to realize that there’s a big difference between dragons who care about ponies’ feelings, and dragons who don’t.”

“You can say that again,” said Opli Dexia.

“And for that matter,” added Fluttershy, “there are some ponies who don’t care about other ponies’ feelings, either.”

“How could anyone not care about other peoples’ feelings?” asked Grig, sitting forward in concern. “That’s just heartless!”

Fluttershy smiled a huge smile at hearing that and moved forward to hug the young dragon. He patted her rump gently, looking happy but concerned.

“And then,” grumbled Peach, “there are the people who care about other people’s feelings _too_ much.”

I put my hand on her, knowing what she meant, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from the yellow-on-yellow action.

* * *

I did manage to interact a little with Fluttershy once she was done fighting her dragon phobia. First, though, Pink Coil cleared his throat. “I was very interested in recent events surrounding your duck, Bailey,” he said. “How is he doing these days?”

“Well, that’s just it,” said Fluttershy. “He isn’t _my_ duck anymore. He belongs to himself. I’ve been making sure to ask after him, though, and as far as I know, he’s still letting people test him to see what he can do. He understands that he’s… someone important. But I don’t know what he’ll do when they’re done with him. I’m hoping he comes home to live with me again.”

“And you’ll be willing to take care of him, even though he’s officially a person now?”

Fluttershy took a proud stance. “People take care of each other all the time.”

I ventured a question: “Do you think your bunny, Angel, might be smart enough to qualify as a person?”

Fluttershy looked indulgently amused as she answered, “Oh, I don’t think he would ever agree to something like that.”

“He wouldn’t consent to personhood?” asked Pink Coil.

She shook her head. “Being a person means that you have certain responsibilities. I think Angel is happier just being a bunny.”

Too bad the rest of us don’t have that choice, I thought.

I wasn’t sure what to say next, and apparently no one else was either, since there was an awkward silence. But Peach, in her wonderful way, managed to turn it into a feature. “Oh hey! Fluttershy, are you still the world champ at the quiet game?”

The pegasus drew herself up in sudden pride. “I haven’t been beaten yet!”

“Do you wanna give it a go? Just the six of us here?”

Fluttershy looked back for a moment, but stepped forward into our compartment. “Why not? But I might not be able to play for very long. I think we’re almost to Canterlot.”

Just to be clear, I asked for the rules, and sure enough, it really was as simple as ‘just be quiet the longest’. So we all sat down and played. It was funny for a while. Everyone just sitting there, looking at each other. A couple of freaks, one from another kingdom and one from another world… a crystal pony, a royal mage, a world-famous animal tender and… a blogger. It struck me as kind of like a joke, and I almost laughed.

Opli Dexia coughed. It wasn’t loud, but Fluttershy turned to glare at her. The rest of us glared too, and apparently that was how we decided she was out. “Oh, for goodness sake,” she muttered, and turned back to her notes.

I yawned. I was worried that might put me out, but no one glared at me, so I guessed it was a quiet-friendly noise and didn’t count. But not long after that, I rubbed my hand nervously on the arm of my seat, and that made a muffled sound. Fluttershy glared at me, and so did the others. I grimaced sheepishly and said, “I guess I’m out then.” Fluttershy nodded with satisfaction.

Pink Coil shifted his position, but somehow didn’t make a sound. Opli coughed again. Grig’s tail switched up and down, left and right, but it was silent until, unluckily, an attendant came down the corridor with a cart and the dragon happened to catch the bottom of it with his tailtip. -Clang!- He jerked his tail self-consciously into his lap, mortified. “Sorry!” he told the attendant. We glared at him and he was out, too.

I looked out the window—the spires of Canterlot were coming into view. I watched them with interest, wondering whether I should ask Fluttershy a question before the chance was lost forever. But I couldn’t bear to interrupt the quiet game.

Peach looked out the window too, gently placing her forehooves up against the glass. She was still a moment, then suddenly flipped back and started singing at the top of her lungs. “O, Canterlot!! The heart of our great land! Your marble walls are glorious and grand!”

Pink Coil wrinkled his face in amusement and Grig snickered. I pet Peach on the nape.

“Oh well, gave it my best!” she shrugged. “Just too much of a patriot, I guess.”

It was down to Fluttershy and Pink Coil. We all sat there watching them as the train squealed into the station. They looked at each other, raising their eyebrows and making quizzical faces. Eventually, Fluttershy chuckled the tiniest little chuckle. She opened her mouth in a silent gasp.

“Did she lose?” asked Peach.

“I did!” said Fluttershy, amazed. “I lost.”

Pink Coil said a few words—or at least, it looked like he did, but although his mouth was moving, he didn’t make a sound. Several brows furrowed his way.

“Were you cheating?” accused Opli Dexia.

He moved his hoof from right to left across his mouth. “Of course I was cheating, Dexi. You didn’t think I could legitimately defeat a world champion, did you?” He smiled to Fluttershy. “Zipper Lip charm. Your title is safe.”

She smiled back with adorable relief. “Well then! …I guess I should go back to where Spike and Twilight are. It was nice to meet all of you.” She looked at me in particular. “I…I hope you figure out what’s best for all of you.”

“So do we,” said Peach. “Have a nice life!”

* * *

It was a nice sentiment, and I was tempted to repeat it when I said goodbye to Grig a minute later. Instead, I gave him a gentle hug and wished him the best of luck with his copper-nickel alloys. He thanked me and said he hoped humans in general were as nice as me. Without any better way of keeping in touch, the best I could do was tell him that if he ever found himself with access to the worldwide web, he should look up PeachOnEarth.com.

I stood on the platform at Canterlot, watching him walk off with his boss and taking in the smell all around me. I could smell what I was nearly sure were cinnamon buns, with maybe some other herbs mixed in. There was a smell of plaster, too. The sun was exceptionally bright here—I might even have called it proud. Across a grassy rise, I stared at Canterlot Palace in all its glory and imagined Princess Celestia striding within, from one tower to another.

My companions joined me. We had about twenty minutes before the train was set to pull out again.

“Canterlot is so beautiful,” said Peach. “I can’t believe I never came here before. I really should’ve.”

“I guess you just never had any need to, huh?”

“Nope.” Peach stood in reflection. “I did, though. I should’ve come here as soon as I was on my own. This is the heart of ponydom, right?”

“Debatable!” said Opli Dexia.

“Nah, it’s pretty much the heart. And if I’d come here and stayed a while, maybe I would’ve understood my own kind better when the portals opened and I got the chance to go through. How can I understand the people who dreamed up ponies if I don’t understand ponies first?”

I laid my hand on her nape while a huge stagecoach rumbled in front of us. That’s when I noticed the voices calling out from the numerous shops around us. “Do you suppose we should get Cadance some kind of gift?”

“Not a bad idea,” said Pink Coil. “She’s bringing you here to right a wrong, of course, and as such it’s she who owes you, not the other way around. Still, making a good impression on a princess can hardly hurt.”

“But what do you get a princess who runs a country?” I wondered. There were gift shops, specialty shops, food markets, flower markets…

“Perhaps a fruit arrangement?” suggested Opli Dexia. “A lot of exotic fruit comes through Canterlot, including many kinds we can’t get in the Empire.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Indeed.” The crystal mare winked. “And I have it on good authority that Cadance has a nearly unhealthy love for kumquats.”

“Really?” asked Peach. “I never had a kumquat.”

“They’re sour,” I told her. “Tiny and sour and I don’t know what they’re for.”

She started off toward the nearest fruit stand. “I’m gonna have one.”

After a moment’s surprise, I strode along with her. “That’s why I love you,” I told her.

“Because I’m going to have a kumquat?” she asked, looking back.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Her ears swiveled. “How about that. I thought it was ‘cause I was fun and sexy and stuff.”

“No, that’s just a bonus,” I told her. “The kumquat thing is the main reason.”

She hooted and flipped her tail at me. I think she understood what I meant—upon hearing that I didn’t know what a particular thing was for, she’d immediately decided to find out. That was a big part of why I loved her.

We found a basket of fruit arranged like a pony’s face, with kumquats for eyes. But two wasn’t enough, so we asked the vendor how much for just a bag of kumquats. It turned out the vendor was glad to get rid of them, so we got a good deal. Peach and I fed each other one kumquat apiece on our way back to the train.

That was more than enough, it turned out. In Equestria, sour really meant sour!

* * *

The rest of the ride was a lot quieter. With the celebrities gone, the mood was somber, and with Grig gone, I found I didn’t have a lot to say to anyone. Most of the passengers had gotten off at Canterlot, and while a lot more had gotten on, they were keeping largely to themselves.

I did have to field questions from a couple of curious ponies, though. One was a red-orange little pegasus stallion who wanted to know why humans always had to wear clothes. Would something terrible happen to us if we didn’t? (I didn’t have a great answer for him, but I tried my best.) And then there was a middle-aged earth mare who peeked in and said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was just curious—do humans all dream of ponies? And if so, are there particular ponies that each human dreams of?” (I felt bad having to disillusion her—she’d been hoping to find her own personal dreamer.)

To pass the time, we rented a board game called Skymaster from the train’s ‘library of diversions’. Everyone apparently knew it but me, although I thought I remembered it from an episode about Rainbow Dash being in the hospital. It was a game a lot like Battleship, the kids’ game where you try to guess where the other player has hidden their pieces, except that in this game you got to move one of your pieces before each guess. They told me it originated in Cloudsdale, which was appropriate because the conductor had just announced that we were passing underneath Cloudsdale. Unfortunately, the train didn’t give us a view of anything but overcast skies and moist green meadows.

We all played each other, but Peach and I spent the most time with the game. The officials had things to read and work on, but all Peach and I had to do was wait, worry and cuddle. Skymaster gave us a new way to connect. There were strategy points, like figuring out how to stop the other player’s weatherpony from pushing their clouds into places they weren’t legally allowed to start, but a big part of it was figuring out how the other player was thinking when they set up their pieces. The more Peach and I played, the more we were able to guess each other’s layouts, even though we both kept mixing them up. So our games got shorter and shorter. Every time one of us guessed the other’s bumblebee or whatever out of the blue, it was “Oh nooo, poor bumblebee!” Peach made a twirly falling pattern with her hoof, and we laughed and hugged and sat there savoring how well we were getting to know each other.

Dinner was a more satisfying affair than lunch had been. We were staring at the steep mountains of the Unicorn Range through our windows; Galloping Gorge was occasionally visible through the forest on the other side of the train. They brought us lasagna with tomato-mushroom sauce, a salad of marinated vegetables, and dried oatgrass. I nibbled the oatgrass a little and then passed it on, but the lasagna was really good.

It was only after dinner that we finally broke the ice between ourselves and our chaperones. We’d had trouble thinking of them as people that we could get to know, since it felt like they were adult figures there to end our youthful reverie and nothing more. But as the view gave way from foothills to cold tundra, we started asking them about their day-to-day lives. Opli Dexia wasn’t able to talk freely about everything Princess Cadance was scheduled to do, but she spoke at length about the challenges inherent to budgeting the time of someone who wanted to be everywhere. It fell to Cadence’s right-hoof mare to oversee ‘crises’ like ours, but also to arrange high-profile meetings, handle important correspondence for the princess, and delegate, delegate, delegate everything under the sun to lower staffers. Pink Coil, meanwhile, was happily retired, but he’d served as Royal Mage for two years after the Crystal Empire’s return, and he sketched out some of his duties from that time: fortifying buildings, developing defensive enchantments lest King Sombra or the like should someday return, and studying the nature of the Crystal Heart itself.

Opli Dexia told us a funny and exasperating story of an incident in which Cadance was introduced to an enterprising youth sledding team that happened to include a pair of fillies orphaned by Sombra’s War. She’d immediately postponed everything else in her schedule to go and meet their caretakers, and from there she decided to visit the orphanage, and from there she had to visit the Steeple of Law to see about changing adoption regulations, and from _there_ she visited a private home so she could tell the married couple who lived there that they were eligible to adopt the foal they’d wanted, and from there she went back to the orphanage… and every time Cadance struck out in a new direction, Opli Dexia had to scramble to rearrange her appointment book and send word that the ponies waiting for Cadance would have to come back in two hours… no, four hours… no, the following morning. _If_ they were lucky! We sympathized with the royal assistant, but really the story made us feel warm and fuzzy toward Cadance more than anything.

Pink Coil told a story too, but it was darker and more serious. He’d been entrusted with a piece of King Sombra’s horn, left behind when the half-ethereal overlord was defeated five years back. His official task was to determine whether there was any threat that Sombra might rise again, but the mage took it upon himself to investigate more than that. He subjected the horn fragment to a comprehensive variety of tests and found that it still contained a significant amount of unformed magic—the same thing you get when several failed spells are muddled in the same vicinity. The most interesting result was that when he brought the fragment next to another disembodied alicorn sample, the two repelled each other like magnets. (”So they _do_ call the substance of a horn alicorn?” I asked. “Yes, and it can be confusing,” he said.) But he ran into some political pressure to stop his research from concerned citizens who were worried that if he dinked around with the horn piece too much, it might trigger some evil curse or something. Unwilling to stop just yet, he created a replica out of resin and gave it to Cadence, who put it publicly in the vault. “She was the only one who knew until I retired… and then it really _did_ go in the vault.”

“What were you trying to learn from it?” asked Peach.

“Oh, just the nature of evil.”

“Just that, huh?”

He tightened his brow. “More specifically, for some insight into how particularly accomplished ne’er-do-wells sometimes manage to transcend mortality and escape permanent destruction over and over. It seems that after committing a certain amount of evil, a person often grows beyond their body and starts to exist as a _presence_ —one that defies the normal rules. If we could figure out how exactly this happens…”

“It would be the biggest disaster ever to befall ponykind,” said Opli Dexia.

He glared at her. “Well, it’s not like I would _tell_ anyone.”

“This is pretty heavy,” said Peach. “Does that mean maybe anyone could be immortal if they’re just willing to commit enough evil?”

“It may be the quality of the evil that matters, rather than the quantity,” the mage answered seriously. “I was, however, hoping to find a loophole.”

“What, like slapping a volunteer twenty thousand times until you go incorporeal? Would that be evil enough?”

Opli Dexia hooted. “Loopholes in this kind of thing are _never_ harmless.”

“Maybe not,” said Pink Coil, “but it’s good for old ponies to have projects.”

That was about as far as the conversation got. There was only icy night outside our windows, and I wasn’t sleepy, so I wandered up and down the train for a while until I got tired of the scared looks and the weird questions. Peach found me and we cuddled in an aisle for a while. For no reason I could name, I found myself crying.

But it didn’t last long. I was in good spirits when we finally reached the Crystal Empire. It was just as dazzling from a distance as you might expect, with arches and towers shimmering in green and pink and orange and violet against the black sky. We went back to our compartment and waited until an endlessly long squeal marked the slowing of the train and we finally pulled to a stop at the dark Crystal City train station.

The streets there were paved in slates the color of ice. Until I got used to it, I was constantly worried about slipping. We pulled our luggage on foot toward the heart of the city, which you couldn’t miss—everything was built around the palace. I could have found my way to Cadance’s home from anywhere in the city without a guide, even at night. There weren’t a lot of ponies around, but those who were seemed to be full of life and vim.

I heard Opli Dexia sighing deeply at one point and looked over to find her sparkling light green. She eyed me for a few seconds. “It’s so good to be back home,” she said simply.

The buildings all shone at night like illuminated ice sculptures. It was an amazing walk—I almost forgot to feel cold. But when we finally reached a low side entrance to the palace and went inside, I realized how tired I was.

“We’ve prepared sleeping rooms for you,” Opli Dexia said, leading us down to an underground hallway the color of cold—or so it felt, anyway. The blue stone walls were almost reminiscent of a clean dungeon.

“Rooms?” asked Peach.

“Yes, rooms, plural,” said Opli Dexia. “There’s no point in making your separation difficult. You may as well get used to sleeping alone.”

My room had two pony-sized beds pushed together, a vanity, and an empty armoire. That was all. “Please make yourself comfortable,” said Opli Dexia, a diagonal stripe shimmering over her body. “The bathroom is down the hall, in case you need it. I’ll be back to wake you in the morning.”

“Thanks,” I said. No guards, then? In theory, I could sneak into the rest of the palace and cause mayhem?

Well, I didn’t test that. I just sneaked into Peach’s room once the chaperones were gone.

She was lying in bed on top of her blankets, bouncing carefully. When she heard me, she looked up and gasped happily. “Pepper!”

“Hey Peach. How’re you doing?”

She shivered. “Cold.”

I sat with her on the bed and looked at the ceiling, which sloped down at the corners. There was one light on the wall with tiny glowing crystals in it. Shadows were everywhere.

“Let’s stay warm tonight, okay?” I suggested.

“Okay,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> So here we are through the looking glass! One of my pre-readers compared Ron’s trip through Equestria to Dante’s Paradiso, escorted by a ‘multi-aspect guide’ acting as a triune Beatrice. We decided that if they do represent aspects of a trinity, then Peach is Love, Opli Dexia is Faith, and Pink Coil is Hope. What do you think? ;)
> 
> My other pre-reader pointed out, in response to Peach’s human impression, that horses will actually eat meat if offered it. Even rabbits sometimes eat meat! But I decided to leave the exchange as is, reasoning that Ron doesn’t know that and Equestrian ponies really are pure vegetarians (q.v. P. Pie, “You Got to Share, You Got to Care”).
> 
> When I wrote, “It was two boring, long days I’d remember for a lifetime, and so there was no way they’d actually be boring,” I was reflecting my recent jury duty experience. I was called as part of two jury panels, but not selected for a case.
> 
> The board game they play on the train comes from the Season 2 episode “Read it and Weep”. I developed the game’s rules to make it interesting and programmed it for EquestriaMUCK, a pony roleplaying venue I used to help run. It can still be played there, in fact. The name Skymaster was suggested by a fellow player.
> 
> Finally, the lyrics Peach sings as Canterlot comes into view are based on the Canadian national anthem, “O Canada”. I imagine that Canterlot’s official anthem is its exact musical duplicate.
> 
> Two questions for your consideration: What would you talk about if you met a friendly young dragon like Grig? And do you think that Pink Coil is wrong to conduct the research he does?


	21. Crystals

MORNING WAS an uneasiness. It was a feeling that something would happen soon - that I should get back to my room before Opli Dexia came for us. We couldn’t see any hint of morning in the windowless underground room—it was just a terrible thing that we knew would come, because it came about this time every day.

I leaned over and kissed Peach on the shoulderblade. She shuddered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, hoping to hear something like _I’m just so happy._

“I’m not ready to lose you,” she mumbled.

I kissed her in various places around the back of her neck, near the base of her mane.

“Every kiss you give might be the last one,” she said.

“Well, this one isn’t,” I promised, and kissed her again. “Because this one comes right after.” Kiss.

“But maybe that one was!”

I drew my arm around her chest and sat there, holding her. “It’s probably morning,” I murmured. “Opli could find us here together.”

“Would that be so bad?”

I breathed. “She’d be upset with us.”

“She can be upset. We’re more important than people being upset.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I put my face in Peach’s hair and squeezed her tight. I gave her one more kiss. And then I got up.

She repositioned herself in bed so that her front hooves were just hanging off the edge. “Where are you going?”

I’d just stepped over to the vanity. “There’s a book on here.”

“It’s not mine,” said Peach.

I read the title aloud: “ _History of the Crystal Empire: A Primer._ ”

“They left us a history book? Wonder if it’s always in here.”

“I guess they’re a proud people. Proud of their history.” I opened the book and showed Peach the impressionistic frontispiece of a smaller, younger Crystal City, painted in pastels.

She slid forward, peering. “It’s pretty.”

I read from the introduction. “A primer, of course, is an introductory text, meant to ‘prime the pump’ of curiosity, so to speak, in young foals and others new to the subject at hoof. By providing a foundation of information, the reader is enticed to study further in order to satisfy the craving for knowledge which has, hopefully, been ‘primed’. However, where this particular subject—the Crystal Empire and its history—is concerned, the term is especially fitting. The nature of crystals is like curiosity in that once one is begun, it can only grow, and this process is both natural and beautiful. Crystals are ordered structures to which like substance adheres and conforms when it happens to come in touch; if traces of the substance of a crystal are to be found in air, some of these traces will eventually contact the crystal through sheer happenstance and will henceforth adopt its structure and become a part of it. This property of crystals is not absent from the Crystal Empire itself, and indeed could be deemed the very reason why it is an _Empire_ , and has not remained a mere _Kingdom._ ”

Peach slipped from the bed, her hooves clacking on the floor. “When was that book written? Was it before the Empire disappeared for a thousand years?”

I opened to the Table of Contents and skimmed to the end. “Looks like it’s from before King Sombra,” I said, not seeing any mention of his reign.

“The writing seemed old-fashioned,” said Peach.

“It reminds me of how Catholics write,” I told her. “Remember how I said they make everything seem like it all fits together and makes perfect sense?”

She nodded. “Like a crystal.”

“I guess like a crystal.” I thumbed through the book, pausing on the smeary yet beautiful pictures of towns and towers and battles and mountain passes. Then I closed it and set it back on the vanity. “Do…do the ponies here take crystals really seriously?” I asked Peach. “Do they have, like a sort of crystal pride?”

Peach shrugged. “Search me. We could ask, I guess.”

“How did people react when this place came back after a thousand years? I can only imagine how something like that would go over on Earth.” Well, actually, it would probably be a lot like discovering that ponies were real. It would shake everything up.

Peach sat back against the bed. I admired how casually a pony could go from standing to sitting. Just because of that, a part of me wanted to make love to her again. “It got us talking, that’s for sure. Some of my neighbors started talking about how they thought they had ancestors from the Crystal Empire, and maybe they’d try to get in touch.”

“Wow. I hadn’t thought of that—ponies meeting their own ancestors from a thousand years ago. Do you know if they ever did?”

Peach shook her head. “It was pretty much just something to talk about.”

“Didn’t it… amaze anyone? Did it turn anything upside-down?”

“I know they sent Princess Twilight out here to protect the place before she was even a princess. It was like a test for—Oh wait, you know that, it was in the show, right? Well, Cadance and Shining Armor went to reestablish their government and everything after the Heart was working again. There was a big rush to get a train line up here. A lot of folks went north to sell modern technology and spells to the crystal ponies, but I got the sense they didn’t make a whole lot of money. I think the crystal ponies like getting by with their own ways, like Princess Cadance said in her speech. Oh, our local petting zoo did get a couple of their dwarf sheep, so there’s that. There was a green one and a yellow one.”

“You have petting zoos?”

“Sure, why not? We like petting things. It’s good for the hooves. I don’t know how humans even came up with the idea of petting, since you don’t have much hair.”

The idea of petting was actually very enticing just then. “What about that ‘Skin’ poem? Isn’t not having hair a plus?”

“Yeah! But that’s caressing. Caressing is different from petting. Why do humans pet animals?”

I considered. “I guess you always want what you don’t already have.”

“Either that, or you don’t appreciate what you’ve got around you until you lose it. Or you meet someone without it.”

I stared at Peach, amazed anew by our chemistry and the way it had of crystallizing from out of nowhere. She was looking backwards at me, swiveling her ears slowly forward as if to say who-knew-what, when we heard the outer door scraping open.

Peach’s expressive ears poinked straight up. “It’s Opli!”

I hurried to the door. “I’ll—wait, it’s too late, isn’t it? She’ll just see me leaving.”

Peach clopped up beside me. “Stay strong! You’re in love and you’re not ashamed!”

I grinned. “Yeah.”

I heard a rapping on a door that wasn’t this one. “Mr. Pfeffer? It’s time to wake up.”

The truth was, we hadn’t had a lot of sleep. Nor had it felt like we’d needed much. I pushed open the door. “I’m in here, actually.”

Opli Dexia, now dressed in a tight-waisted transparent blue gown that sort of shocked me, turned sharply toward me. “Are you in Miss Peach Spark’s room!?”

“I’m sorry,” I began. Wait, what was I saying? “No, I’m not sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

She stared at me, aghast. “And did Miss Spark feel similarly? Are you in there, Miss Spark?”

She joined me promptly. “I’m here! We were just reading history together.”

Opli Dexia frowned. “Well, I’m glad someone appreciates the complimentary texts. Was that all you were doing?”

We looked at each other, all too aware that we hadn’t actually gotten to the history part of the book. “It might not have been _quite_ all,” I said.

Our chaperone struck the stone floor with a -CLACK!- “You have made your bed, and you will now lie in it,” she said. “Please don’t blame me if your separation proves painful.”

“Ouch,” said Peach.

The royal assistant looked grave, but a little apologetic. “Her Serene Highness has expressed an interest in meeting you over breakfast,” she informed us. “You will therefore be prepared to depart within ten minutes. You may leave your things here.”

I sighed. Well, we were getting it out of the way sooner than later. I was a little relieved—I’d been worried about spending the whole morning tense, waiting for the hammer to fall.

“I guess that _was_ the last kiss,” moped Peach as we hurried to get presentable.

I leaned over quickly to steal one more.

* * *

There was a door at the end of the underground passage, and past it a flight of stairs covered in lavender velvet. A couple of narrow passages beside us led to other dungeon-like hallways, but we took the stairs. Immediately, things were better lit and there were fantastic paintings on the walls—ponies twirling through the air with wild curling manes and tails. I thought they might be acrylics, but when I peered closer, the texture looked strange. Were they made from crystals?

We passed by an inviting arch and climbed instead to the second floor. From there, Opli Dexia led us into a wide hallway with transparent light fixtures and layers of transparency in the floors and walls, blocked by buried blue and pink panels. We didn’t stay there long enough for me to contemplate the walls, though, because Opli then took us into a much narrower passage that might have been for servants, then out into a round yellow room that felt like being inside a honeypot. There were two differently decorated rooms adjoining it; we could see doorways through doorways forking in at least four directions, each room a different color. Opli Dexia told us to wait on a huge tuffet that reminded me of a flower blossom.

It was too big to easily sit on the edge, so Peach and I climbed right into the middle and lay together. I stroked her rump idly and she looked from one door to the other, nervous.

There was a perfunctory blast on some kind of horn—a flugelhorn?—and we heard tromping hooves approaching from the right. From two rooms away boomed a gruff voice: “Her Serene Highness, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and Prince Consort Shining Armor.”

As we turned in the heart of our tuffet, a rank of lightly armored guards, all either white, gray or pink, marched through to take up positions at each doorway. They examined us warily, as if judging nothing about us but our potential ability to make trouble.

A sizable white unicorn strode easily through the checkpoint; he was wearing a brown silk shirt with a deep V-neck, and could only be Shining Armor. “Oh!” he said, peering at us, and then he called back through the door. “Cadance, it’s your eight o’clock!”

We heard her voice, then, distantly. “Yes, I’m coming. You can go ahead; I’ll see you at lunch!”

“Gotcha.” Shining Armor turned back to us. “Good luck, you two. Er, and, on behalf of the Crystal Empire, I apologize for any inconvenience.” He bowed and closed his eyes.

“Oh, it’s fine,” said Peach. “It’s all been worth it.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate being allowed to visit.”

The prince looked up curiously at us. “Well, I hope you get a happy ending,” he said. While I was considering whether and how to answer, he slipped past the guards through the other door. Peach and I watched him go.

We turned back to the right. The graceful, pink slip of a living thing that was Princess Cadance appeared, Opli Dexia beside her in her wispy dress. Cadance was wearing the same royal regalia as when we’d seen her before, but somehow her manner was easier. Behind them walked two unicorns murmuring to each other—Pink Coil and a stockily built periwinkle mare with a cudgel for a cutie mark—and at the rear came another trio of guards.

The princess came into the room and looked at us. I moved self-consciously to sit on the edge of the tuffet, and Peach crept up beside me. She wasn’t nearly as excited to talk with a princess this time.

“Here they are,” said Opli Dexia.

Cadance smiled at us. “I remember them. Peach Spark! The poet blogger! And Ron Pfeffer, who was good enough to accompany her to my speech.”

I nodded, but when I saw Peach bowing, I bowed too, still sitting. I wondered whether we should have stood up when she came in.

Cadance looked between us with soft pity. “Oh, look at you. I feel so bad about this. When I met you before, I couldn’t tell whether you were a couple, but now, it’s written all over you.”

The periwinkle unicorn stared at us from the door and murmured something to Pink Coil.

“I’m more totally in love with him than I’ve ever been with anyone or anything,” said Peach.

I wanted to touch her, but it didn’t feel appropriate. “I’ve gone gonzo for her too. The week after you caught us in that spell was maybe the best week of my life. I mean, I’ve fallen in love before, but it wasn’t like this.” I spoke softly. “Do you really have to undo it?”

Cadance’s expression fell, her eyes teary. “I never seem to learn,” she uttered. “Love is so beautiful, but it can’t be forced. Ultimately, the beauty you get will be false if you do.”

Peach and I looked at each other. Were we emanating false beauty?

“There’s something I’m not clear on,” said Peach. “Were you… casting a spell on those arguing ambassadors, and we just got caught in the crossfire? Or… was the spell meant especially for us?”

Cadance closed her eyes nearly all the way. “It was for you. I was frustrated by the idea of a twosome so close to love, but letting it fall apart through arguing.”

“Were we arguing?” I asked.

She faced me. “Yes. Pink Coil says that you don’t remember, but you deserve to know. You were planning to move back home, to wherever you came from. Peach, you wanted to know whether you would ever see him again.” Cadance was having trouble getting her words out, obviously pained. “You had both been… bickering loudly for some time, and it was so clearly _wrong_. Whatever had come between you was something that could be discussed, and _should_ be discussed, and Ron, you were prepared to leave town with no promise that Peach would ever see you again.”

Did I really say that? Would I really have done that? I slid over next to Peach and squeezed her with one arm. She hugged me back tight, teary.

“It felt like that would have been a needless tragedy,” continued Cadance sadly. “And I was too distracted to mediate, so I… took action. But I struck you much harder than I should have… and perhaps I should have let the tragedy take place, regardless. Because your lives belong to you.”

“Why were you going to leave?” whimpered Peach.

“Probably because if I didn’t have you, what _would_ I have?” I answered.

She shifted in my grip but said nothing.

“I’m prepared to undo the love spell,” said Cadence. “I know that Pink Coil told you why it’s necessary. But you have to understand, it may be difficult for you afterward.”

“I know,” I said. “Believe me, we’ve thought about it.”

“Actually, Pink Coil didn’t tell us why we had to have the spell canceled,” said Peach. “It was my friend Second Sight that convinced us.”

Cadance raised her eyebrows. “Second Sight? Who is that?”

“She’s a unicorn who knows a lot. She can see how people are feeling.”

“And what did she tell you?”

Peach looked down. “That our love is just grafted on. That it’s causing emotional jerkage.”

Cadance’s eyes fluttered in puzzlement. “That isn’t terminology that I’m familiar with! But… I think I can see what she means.”

The periwinkle unicorn spoke up for the first time. “I’ve heard it before! It means some groups of subconscious emotions are triggering their non-counterpart conscious emotions.”

Cadance nodded seriously and opened an utterly pink wing toward the unicorn. “My royal mage, Shillelagh.”

“Wow,” said Peach. “We’ve got the monarch of the Crystal Empire, her royal mage, _and_ her mage emeritus. All in the same room, just for us.”

Pink Coil cleared his throat. “We have no doubt that Cadance could handle this on her own, but your case is of academic value. Shillelagh and I wished to observe.”

“I’m really good at force magic and scrying, but enchantments are a weak point,” said Shillelagh, her voice husky. “Didn’t Sunburst want to watch, too?”

“He decided it was more important to stay with the child,” said Opli Dexia.

“He really has become an invaluable babysitter,” said Cadance, smiling. “And I’m glad to have you here for the difficult magic operations, Shillelagh, just in case.”

“Shall I tell the cooks to have breakfast waiting?” Opli Dexia asked the princess.

Cadance squinted. “No need to trouble them, given that we don’t know how long we’ll be. We can go out for breakfast.”

“You’re already going out for lunch!” the adjutant pointed out.

Cadance looked at her. “It’s summer! I enjoy going out.”

Opli Dexia nodded and hurried off, presumably to tell the cooks.

“Do you suppose we should give them something to calm down?” asked Shillelagh.

“Not yet,” said Cadance, looking between my heart and head. “I need them alert. If they aren’t alert, their feelings won’t be fully active, and I won’t be able to see…” A tendril of turquoise magic reached out and… invaded me. “…where the natural feelings end and the magical ones begin.”

I made an effort to hold still. “Are you starting?” I asked apprehensively.

“I haven’t changed anything yet,” said Cadance. She stood very seriously and faced both of us. “Are you certain that you want me to do this?”

I had a flash of unreality—was one of the four princesses of Equestria really asking my permission to do something to me? But when I’d said we’d thought it over, I’d been telling the truth. “Yes,” I nodded. I wanted to give Peach one last kiss, but then she would know all too painfully it _would_ be the last.

“I’m certain,” said Peach sadly.

“All right,” said Cadance softly. “I’m going to ask some questions. Please try to remain calm and think seriously about the answers. Peach, if you feel the urge to sing at any point, go ahead and we’ll wait.”

“I’ve only had six songs,” Peach mumbled.

Cadance turned back toward Pink Coil, inclining her ears. “What do you think, Pink? Should I open with hypotheticals?”

“That could confuse the issue,” advised the mage emeritus. “With respect, I recommend getting straight to it.”

Cadance nodded and returned her attention to us. “Peach? Am I understanding things correctly in that you told Ron at one point that he couldn’t be your boyfriend?”

Peach concentrated visibly. “Hard to think about that kind of thing. But yeah. I guess I maybe didn’t say it directly. But I told him somepony else was my special somepony.”

“But Ron wasn’t trying to take you away from an established relationship, was he?”

She shook her head. “They asked me to choose between them. I told them I had a lot on my plate.”

“What, exactly, did you have on your plate?”

Peach blushed. “My blog. My quest. Like I said at the mixer.”

Cadance looked at Peach’s cutie mark, with its two towers. “Sparking a connection between the two worlds.”

“Yeah. I know it sounds really… conceited of me, ‘cause I know there’s already lots of connections, but…”

“But you feel you have something to add?”

Peach looked up boldly. “I feel like we don’t understand the whole thing yet.”

Cadance blinked. “How do you mean?”

Peach waved her hoof. “Us. Them. What our relationship really is. How we should be treating each other.”

“And… is that why you were hesitant to love a human? Because you weren’t sure that love was part of the… of the proper relationship?”

Peach looked ashamed. “Yes. Well, that and—that and, the other guy seemed really neat at the time. He really impressed me with all his travels and experience and all the stuff he can quote. But he’s not right for me. He’s seven years older than me, but Ron and me are the same age! And besides, he’s a seducer. He’s a nice seducer, but that’s what he is, and I’m not the kind of girl who should be seduced.”

“Is anyone?” asked Cadance.

“Well, yeah! Some girls say, ‘I want a stallion to sweep me off my hooves!’ Well, they should get one! They should end up with someone like George, but I need a partner. Someone to build up ideas with. Someone to go have random fun with.” She lowered her voice and her head. “Someone who doesn’t have any more of a plan than I do.”

A turquoise tendril reached from Cadance’s horn to Peach’s, then dissolved. “And is Ron this person without a plan?”

She only turned her head slightly toward me, as if ashamed to look me in the eyes. “I guess.”

Cadance turned her attention to me. “Ron? Is any of this a surprise to you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t realize Peach thought about George quite like that, but it makes sense.”

Cadance weighed her words. “When it comes to your life in general, is it fair to say, as Peach implies, that you don’t have a plan?”

It stung, but it was something I’d known about myself for a while. “Yeah, it’s true. Whenever anyone asks where I see myself in five years, I don’t know.”

“I like that, Ron,” emphasized Peach, whomping her tail against the tuffet. “You _shouldn’t_ know.”

Cadance continued. “And when it comes to your relationships in general?” she asked me. “Are you the sort of person who knows just how he’s going to win the girl? Or do you proceed without a plan?”

I was less ashamed to answer this one. “Love is best without a plan.” It struck me that I was talking to the princess of love, and wondered whether she would agree.

“And was that also true about your relationship with Peach?”

I had to think back to the beginning in order to answer honestly. “Yeah. It is. I didn’t even know it when I started to fall in love with her.”

Cadance’s magic flashed and sparked in my head. I struggled not to panic or shake. “Did you have any reservations about it when you did?”

“I don’t think so…” I murmured. “Just that she might not want me. I’m kind of a loser.”

“You are _not,_ ” snapped Peach.

“Well, in some ways, no,” I admitted. “But I could be a lot more impressive.”

“You’re wonderful,” cried Peach. “You’re wonderful the way you are.”

I was feeling vulnerable, but somehow it didn’t keep me from opening up. “I wish I had a job I actually liked.”

“I wish that too! We can get one for you! We can work on it together.”

“I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life,” I went on, feeling tears form. “I wish I knew what my cutie mark was. If I had one.”

“Not everypony knows what their cutie mark means!” objected Peach. “I’m only just starting to understand mine!”

“I have a royal post and I _still_ don’t know,” put in Shillelagh.

Cadance touched me softly with her wing feathers. “Is it possible that your quest is Peach’s own? To forge a connection between our worlds?”

I wanted to touch those feathers with my fingers, but I didn’t. “I’ve thought about it. But I don’t think humans have destinies.”

“Does that mean they can’t be part of anyone’s destiny?” asked Cadance.

I was silent. I didn’t know.

A flash of white over bubblegum pink shook me. I felt my thoughts being jostled, uprooted. I shut my eyes and tried to keep my breathing steady. What had I been thinking about?

I heard Cadance speaking to Peach. “Do you think you’re following a destiny?”

“I don’t know. How can I know? Does it feel different from when you’re just doing normal stuff?”

“…It… there are moments in your life when… everything becomes crystal clear, and you know exactly what you have to do. I’ve experienced a few of those myself. But I believe that a pony can be working toward her destiny for much of her life and not be aware of it at all.”

There was silence for a while. Then I heard muffled crackling and sparkling, and I opened my eyes. Cadance had her horn touched to Peach’s breast, and the two mages were pressing up to watch. Shillelagh was wide-eyed, while Pink Coil was quietly attentive.

“I want to fulfill my destiny,” said Peach Spark.

“You will!” said Cadance. “You can’t help it. That’s what destiny is.” And then a few moments later, she whispered: “I see the problem.”

I saw snaking, grasping tendrils of turquoise sift through my girlfriend’s head and ribcage, bobbing and yanking. I felt a growing pain I couldn’t identify. I was getting tenser and tenser.

Pink Coil whispered to the princess, pointing toward me. She quickly paused her business with Peach and turned to me, concentrating. A film of magic spread toward me and through my face. I felt the pain open, the substance inside welling out, and I moaned aloud.

“There, there,” said Cadance. “It’ll be all right. Think about Peach.”

So I did. I thought about how she wanted to open the world with me, to eat things from east, west, north and south, to ride subways, to take trips. If we went to Atlantic City, she would gamble with me. She wasn’t like Cindy. Peach was fun and exciting. She was a mystery because her life was a mystery. I didn’t know what to do with my life because I’d never found a long-term plan worth making, but Peach didn’t know only because there were so many paths in front of her she couldn’t choose.

I loved her so much. If only she weren’t an ugly horse.

Oh God, did I really think that?

I hadn’t meant it. She was a pretty horse, really! Not ugly at all, for a four-legged work animal. She was slim and had big eyes and was really expressive…

_Work animal?_

The princess of love was squinting into my eyes. “Bit for your thoughts?” she asked.

I couldn’t say what I’d just thought. I shook my head.

“I feel like we’re almost there,” she cajoled. “I just want to make sure I cleared it all out.”

I moaned and felt tears coming out. I wiped them clean. Oh. Oh, this was what Second Sight had been talking about.

“You know Peach’s friend Second Sight?” I said weakly. “She told me there was something big built up in me that I was ignoring. Something that made… love impossible.”

Cadance nodded, her amethyst eyes probing curiously.

“I just realized what it was.” My mouth was dry. “I forgot. I’m not attracted to ponies.”

Cadance’s eyes flicked in Peach’s direction, but I couldn’t look.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I just don’t find the… the pony body type sexy. I know ponies are people through and through, but the way you’re built… it just says ‘animal’ to me.”

Cadance gave a tiny nod and reached into my head with turquoise tendrils once more. “So you’re saying that you find Peach attractive emotionally, but not physically?”

My jaw trembled. I forced myself to turn my head, to look at her. She looked vulnerable, shocked, afraid. I was so ashamed.

“That’s right,” I said.

There was the feeling of digging, of troweling, of reaching through loose soil to pluck out a plant by its roots. Then there was a tug, and I felt hurt, but no longer tense. I twitched and breathed heavily.

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” Peach asked, even while Cadance turned and dipped her head to probe her magically.

I didn’t want to talk about it in front of these other ponies, but like Opli Dexia had said, I’d made my bed. “You’re pretty for a pony. But that’s not right for me.”

Peach chewed her bottom lip. “You called me pretty before. You called me beautiful. And you rubbed me all over. You kissed me. You even boinked me. A bunch of times.”

I felt so feeble. “I was under the spell,” I explained.

“Crepes, Pepper!” There was so much pain in her eyes. Was she really that sensitive about her appearance, or was the spell making her react like this? “You said you loved me! Through and through! You even wanted to be my boyfriend _before_ the spell! Why would you say that if you don’t like the way I look?”

“I don’t know! Because we were developing a relationship! Because you’re so deep. You’re kale _and_ you’re marshmallows. You can make an amazing tiny picture on a grain of rice and you’ve got a way of talking that…” I shivered. “…thrills me.” _If only you were a woman,_ I wanted to say. “I hadn’t ever met anyone like you before, and… and I was able to be a friend to you, and it meant so much to you, and… I guess I found it meant a lot to me, too. I really needed a friend like you.”

I saw a tear run down her peach-colored coat, Cadance’s horn at her breast. “I needed you too. I _still_ need you. I was being dumb. I blamed my parents and I blamed George and I blamed my quest and really I was just afraid.” She was speaking through sobs. “I was afraid to fall in love with a human. In case that was the dumbest thing ever and would only end in heartbreak. I was afraid to let it happen because everything on Earth was so new and so I kept putting it off and saying no to love… and now it’s heartbreak after all, isn’t it? It’s heartbreak anyway, only it’s _my_ fault, it’s all my fault for being afraid!”

She was weeping openly and I could hardly wait for Cadance to finish pulling the spell out of Peach so that she finally could be at ease. “Cadance,” I said. “How much longer is it going to take?”

The princess stood before Peach, her shoulders slumped wearily. “I’ve already finished. Perhaps twenty seconds ago.”

“ _Seriously?!_ ”

Cadance nodded at me, biting her lower lip.

“But… she’s still saying she loves me!”

The princess met my eyes. “Then she does. You’re lucky, Ron Pfeffer. Not everyone gets to know true love.”

I was so confused. Shillelagh broke in: “You’re sure you got all the traces? From both of them?”

Cadance sighed. “Yes. My ill-advised spell is undone.”

“But it was a love spell, and there’s still love left that wasn’t there before,” the periwinkle mage objected. “What am I missing?”

“You heard her,” said Cadance quietly. “She had been afraid to love. My spell unlocked that fear. The spell is gone, but the source of the fear crumbled and cannot return.”

“Oh, I get it! That’s… that’s a pretty ideal outcome, isn’t it?”

Cadance nodded deeply. “If the only barrier to love is a mutual emotional wall, yes. Celestia and I decided that such circumstances were the only ones that truly justified a love spell.” She looked at me. “I made a spur-of-the-moment judgment at the mixer, Shillelagh. And I was only half right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only one of the two lovers was suffering from an emotional wall,” Cadance told her mage softly. “The other was depending upon one for his love.”

“He was?” asked Shillelagh. “Ohh. No, I get it. He was walling off how he didn’t find her sexy.”

Cadance gave a mournful little nod.

Peach leapt off the tuffet and stood facing me. “So where does that leave us?” she demanded, her ears back.

“I’m afraid that’s up to you and Ron,” said Cadance.

I swallowed. “You still love me? Even now that the spell’s gone?”

The quivering of her cheeks turned into a spastic nod. Then she reared up and put her forehooves in my lap and her head against my chest. She cried into me, and I hugged her gently.

“I love you too, Peach. You’re my best friend. My very best friend. But…” I had to steel myself to say it. “…when it comes down it, our apartment’s too small.”

She looked up at me, eyes wide and wet. Then she closed her eyes and sank into my belly, sobbing.

Cadance raised an eyebrow to Shillelagh and gestured toward us. Shillelagh stepped forward and cast a spell that washed over us, and I was struck by a sense of tranquility and distance. I didn’t want to cry anymore or think too hard about my problems. I just held Peach and stroked her hair. It was nice hair, really. Almond brown and full of swooshes, like it was ready to change the world.

“I’m sorry,” said Princess Cadance, watching us. “I was hoping it would work out better, but this kind of thing rarely does.”

“It’s okay,” mumbled Peach, muffled by my body. “You warned us it’d hurt. I just didn’t know it’d hurt like this.”

She laid her wing on Peach’s back and joined me in stroking her. “When you’re ready, we can go out to breakfast,” she said. “I know a nice place.”

* * *

Do I seem like a horrible person, telling the story this way? I went to Cadance’s mixer with unrequited love; Cadance bandaged it with a spell, and when the bandage was removed, _Peach’s_ love was unrequited. It was funny, really, from a certain perspective we were both a million miles away from reaching. For now, it was complicated by the fact that her love wasn’t _really_ unrequited. I did love her, just not as a lover. I loved Peach as a dear friend, but, as I explained as gingerly as I could over breakfast, if I was going to share a cramped studio apartment with someone, it would have to be a girl I was crazy for. Because, let’s face it, I said. The way we were living was crazy.

“Crazy isn’t always bad,” pled Peach.

“I know. That’s what I’m saying. It was working, for a while. But I don’t think it’s going to work any more.”

“So what are we going to do? Are you going to move out?”

I’d been trying not to think about it. “Probably. That’s probably best. I’ll go back to Trenton, and live near my family again.”

Peach reached out across the large marble table toward me, but let herself be defeated by the distance and picked up her stone tea mug instead to slurp a little. We were sitting outdoors in view of a market. Now and then crystal ponies passing by would come up to Cadance and say something nice or giddy, and she’d always respond in kind. It was uplifting just having breakfast with her.

I brought out our gift for Cadance and presented it quietly. She took it with her magic and gave me a sporting, quizzical look, as if she was amazed by the idea of a gift and suspected it was a trick. When she opened the bag and looked in, her pristine face contorted into a wiggle-mouthed grin. “Kumquats!” she exclaimed, and poured some of them out on the table. “How did you know I enjoy these?”

“I guess they just spoke to us!” offered Peach.

“We were tipped off,” I admitted.

She had one crushed between her teeth already. “They’re piquant,” she said. “Do you know that word? It means, ‘pleasantly provocative, or stimulating to the senses.’”

Peach and I admitted that we did know the word, yes.

“The best part is that it’s seven letters long, ends in a ‘t’, and even has a ‘q’ in it!” Cadance continued, passing around kumquats to everyone, including a couple of ponies randomly passing by, who gasped in delight. “Kumquats are the perfect example of piquantness, and ‘piquant’ is the perfect word for a kumquat!”

“Do you like piquant things?” asked Peach.

“Piquant things are the best things there are,” Cadance replied coyly. “They make life as a princess almost bearable!”

So that was Cadance. As for Shillelagh, she was a lot more naive and open than I would have expected a royal mage to be, especially after meeting Pink Coil. In practice, she told us, she often operated in tandem with Mage Counsel Sunburst, “…as the magical brawn to his magical brains, so to speak.”

It was she who eventually asked the question I was afraid to ask: “So, Peach, to make sure I understand correctly. You _are_ attracted physically to Ron?”

I focused on my eggs for a moment, artfully studded with fennel and peppers and poured over with two sauces. “Yeah,” said Peach. “I’m open-minded like that. I like how he’s tall and thin and his arms are nimble and his feet are big like dragon feet and his nose sticks out all funny-looking. I like how he shifts his weight in bed.”

“Out of curiosity,” asked Pink Coil, “do you feel _any_ different now that the spell is removed?”

Peach swallowed with pain. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it was doing a number on me. It was making me forget all Ron’s weaknesses. All the things that aren’t so great about him. But—” She looked at me, and I was brave enough to meet her eyes. “That sort of thing isn’t polite to talk about.”

“As opposed to how a person behaves in bed,” quipped Opli Dexia from the end of the table.

Cadance snickered. “Yet you would still take him, for all his weaknesses?” she prompted.

“Yeah,” said Peach. “In a heartbeat.”

Whatever my feelings, no one had ever talked about me that way before Peach. I slid over next to her and offered my shoulder. She leaned on it.

"Maybe we can go on another date or two,” I suggested. “Just in case.”

“Just in case what? You turn out to think I’m sexy after all?”

Admittedly, as I thought back on having slept with her, I couldn’t see that happening. “Maybe we’ll think of something. I don’t know.”

Cadance watched us, but didn’t interfere. Instead, she pointed out shops and attractions visible from our table. “And there’s the Green Pie, where my husband and I will be taking our daughter for lunch! Green Pie is also the proprietor. He makes pies out of greens, like chard and spinach.”

“We’re about twenty minutes behind schedule,” said Opli Dexia. “You may need to get a pie to go.”

“Nonsense,” said Cadance.

“I really love Equestria so far,” I remarked. “And the Crystal Empire is wonderful. Do you enjoy running it?”

Cadance gave me a coy look, as if to say, _Oh, look at you, hobnobbing with royalty._ “It’s my place in life! But I have to admit, I’ve enjoyed branching out into Terran diplomacy. What good is running a happy empire if you can’t share your good example with the rest of the multiverse?”

“Aside from the intrinsic value of happiness,” remarked Opli Dexia.

“Right—aside from that,” agreed Cadance, popping a stuffed mushroom into her mouth.

* * *

As we were heading back to the palace, Pink Coil asked us whether we would mind having our case written up into an academic treatise—with our names disguised, of course. Peach gave it some thought and shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. Might as well make us into a cautionary tale.”

“Can you send me a copy when you’re done?” I asked.

“Certainly. Just provide a lock or two of hair, and you’ll receive a scroll when I’m finished.”

So I clipped off a little hair, and he finally excused himself with nothing more than, “It was a pleasure. Goodbye.” Peach and I decided that despite his occasional brusqueness, Pink Coil had liked our company.

Cadance stood with us at the entrance to our little dungeon hallway in the basement of her palace. “I know you’re under orders to go straight home,” she told me. “But I think if you’d like to make time to visit Peach’s family, it could be arranged.”

Peach looked awkwardly at me. “I don’t know about that.”

The truth was, I didn’t really relish the idea of meeting a family full of ponies who might be biased against humans and explaining to them that I had been Peach’s boyfriend, but only because we’d been enchanted, and now I was her ex-boyfriend, yet here I was anyway to say hi, how are you? “Yeah, I don’t think that makes a lo—”

There’s a part of every person that sits there like a kid in front of a television, just watching most of the time, but sometimes, occasionally, it reaches out and tugs on you from the inside and says NO. Usually when that happens, it’s because you’re about to hurt yourself by falling off a high place or running into a fire, something like that. But sometimes… on occasions that are way too rare… that little part of yourself reaches out and grabs you to keep you from missing out on something amazing. Usually, we don’t need that part of ourselves to tell us to do amazing things, but sometimes we get so tied up in knots that we manage to convince ourselves it’s a bad idea… and on those rare occasions, the tug of the angry inner child becomes a welcome friend… which is an amazing feeling in itself.

“…hell.”

“What?” said Peach.

“Excuse me?” said Princess Cadance.

I smiled and felt myself getting teary for the second time that day. “I’d love to meet your family, Peach.”

She looked hopeful. “You would?”

I put my hand tentatively on her mane. “And see your hometown? Yeah. Because a princess of Equestria—” I wanted to say _fucking Equestria_ , but caught myself in time. “—is good enough to give me the chance, and when am I ever going to get that again?”

Peach looked a little bittersweet. “But we’re not a couple anymore, are we?”

I rubbed her head gently. “We’re a couple of close friends.”

She took a quick breath, letting her shoulders rise and fall. “I’d miss another day of work.”

Cadance smiled beatifically. “We have resources. We can take care of it.”

“You’re too kind,” I said.

“I know. It’s a fault of mine. Even princesses aren’t perfect.” She winked at Peach. “But we’re better than worstness, in spite of our firstness.”

Peach beamed. “You read my poem!”

“I made sure to read all your poems,” said Cadance. “I think you’re brilliant, Peach.” She tousled my hair with her wingtip much like I’d tousled Peach’s. “And you’re lucky to have a top-flight friend like Ron.”

This seemed to bolster Peach. “You know I’m gonna blog about this,” she warned.

Cadance composed herself, folding her wing. “I look forward to it.”

* * *

The sky was cloudy outside the train windows. It felt really empty with just Peach and me in the compartment, the rumbling of the train augmented by occasional thunder. I’d been issued a visa with strict instructions to disembark the train at Long Hedge and catch a particular train the next day; if it wasn’t hole-punched by the engineer, it would magically alert the Bureau of Human Visitors. Because of this, we didn’t need a chaperone, and the train felt much lonelier than it had on the way north.

But I didn’t feel alone.

“Dear readers,” said Peach, standing on her seat without writing anything down. “On Tuesday, a human put me in the friendship zone. This probably shouldn’t be a surprise. Humans know that we ponies are really into friendship. They would probably be constantly putting us in friendship zones if they thought they could get away with it. But it still took me off guard.”

“You’re not gonna forgive me, are you?” I interrupted.

“Nope, I’m not,” said Peach.

“I’m really sorry,” I said.

“Because you can only forgive someone once, and I already did,” she explained.

In my breast, I felt the sun coming out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> This was not the end of the story, but as one of my readers predicted, I think it's safe to say it was the climax. There will be two or three more chapters. I also have some neat bonus content I'm planning to present soon, possibly on my Fimfiction blog. (Want a teaser? It's set in Ottawa.)
> 
> If "The Crystalling" had aired before I wrote Chapter 19, I might have sent Sunburst to see Ron and Peach instead of Pink Coil. At minimum, I would have mentioned him. Oh, well!
> 
> This is not actually where the word 'primer' comes from, for. It comes from the Latin primarius, meaning 'prayer book' or 'school book'; both this and 'prime the pump' come ultimately from primus, first. But I established in Chapter 4 that Equestrian etymology is different from our own. :twilightsheepish:
> 
> Opli Dexia, by the way, comes from the Greek words for 'hoof' and 'right'. I believe adjectives precede nouns in modern Greek, though, so her name can only poetically be said to mean 'right hoof'.
> 
> When Cadance tells Peach about those moments in one's life when everything comes clear and you know exactly what you have to do, she was thinking especially of the Crystal Heart spell from Twilight Sparkle and the Crystal Heart Spell, by G. M. Berrow, which was also the source of Cadance's origin story that informed Chapter 15.
> 
> Three guesses whom Cadance was having lunch with when she realized that ‘piquant’ was the perfect word for a kumquat!


	22. Bonus Chapter: Remembrance Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Hello, readers! I've been working on original short stories for submission to magazines, so I haven't yet begun Chapter 22. But I do have some bonus content to offer you! I wrote the following chapter a couple of months ago. It can be considered a prequel to The Pony Who Lived Upstairs. Like the dialogue between Spike and Cathy Weseluck I posted on my blog, it can be considered canonical.
> 
> I'm not sure whether I'm going to continue it - maybe if enough readers want me to. Theoretically, it could lead to further bonus chapters or even a separate, prequel story. But for now, it's just a bit of amusing fun. Enjoy.

**9:05 P.M.**   
**NOVEMBER 11, 2016**   
**RIDEAU HALL**   
**OTTAWA, ONTARIO**

A gentle tapping, interrupted by silence now and then. That was enough to make up for not being able to open the windows. It was reason enough to leave the door open a crack. On an evening like tonight, there had to be something to connect a soul to the outside, or he was likely to stew and stifle in his own ruminations.

David Johnston, Governor General of Canada, lay on his bed, listening to his wife typing intermittently three rooms away. She was working on her novel, the last in a trilogy set in the aftermath of the First World War. David supposed it was easy for her to cast her mind back to that time just now; it was just as easy for David, and he didn’t resist. The day had been exhausting but fulfilling, as Remembrance Day always was. It was his honor and privilege to preside over the official ceremony at the National War Memorial, even if the overall process was somewhat grueling. His red poppy sat unfastened from his lapel on the nightstand beside him, and, keeping it in sight, his mind drifted past tombstones and fields into a sepia-toned scene of rough-hewn trenches, barbed wire and rifle smoke.

Not for the first time, David asked himself whether he would have made it, had he fought with the Corps a century ago on the Western Front… perhaps at Ypres when the Germans had added chlorine gas to the already terrifying collection of horrors warfare had to offer. He imagined himself entrenched, looking up as yellow-green sick wafted overhead, preceded by retching and the shouts of fleeing men. Would he have joined them, or held his post?

A clatter from the bathroom spurred his reflexes, still reasonably sharp at age seventy-five. He sat up. His first thought was whether some animal, perhaps a raccoon, had managed to slip through a window. But this wasn’t Sault Ste. Marie. This was Rideau Hall, Canada’s House. There were no open windows or wild animals here.

_My God_ , thought David. _Is it an assassin?_

The clatter didn’t sound like an assassin, and the calmer part of his mind knew that there was probably some obvious thing it was, but he couldn’t imagine what. Sharon really was in her office, wasn’t she? Yes, he’d seen her leave, and he could hear the distant click of her typing even now. But the sounds continued in the bathroom behind the closed door, even if they weren’t as numerous as before. A clack here and there—could the plumbing have gone haywire? But no, that was a resounding bump—something had bumped the cabinet.

“Who the _hell_ is in there?” demanded David, pushing himself to his feet.

A moment’s silence passed. David wondered whether he should call his wife, call security, maybe even flee the residence. But sheer curiosity, combined with the knowledge that he didn’t have _that_ many years left to lose, held him transfixed.

He didn’t expect the response he got. He’d been expecting, if anything, a man’s voice, either angry or nervous at having been caught out. But the voice was female and urgent and resonant and even beautiful—the voice of a trained actor or singer. “Please—I don’t mean any harm. I _swear_ it. I need you to keep my presence here secret. I know this is a lot to ask, but once I explain, you’ll understand.”

The most foolish thing a man can do, David reflected, is concede to the demands of his own enemy. But he was an intelligent man with a respect for knowledge, and he had a weakness for ‘Let me explain’. They were like magic words, on par with ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’. So he took one step forward, heart beating quickly, and replied through the door: “Explain, then. Now!”

“Yes,” said the voice uncertainly, and there was another series of clacks—it sounded like they came from the floor. Then the voice resumed rapidly: “I came here through the use of a magic spell. I don’t know where I am—only a few things about this world. It’s best that I not be seen by a lot of people. I am in need of help—my people are in dire need of help. If it matters, I am a head of state—am I speaking to a fellow head of state?”

David exhaled. “This has _got_ to be a prank,” he reflected, seeing no reason to keep the thought to himself. “This is some kind of terrible joke, isn’t it? And on Remembrance Day!” But something in the pit of his stomach was telling him what this was—this was something to do with Donald Trump, wasn’t it? Rioters had plagued the States ever since Tuesday, when John Kasich’s ‘independent’ campaign outmaneuvered Trump to take the American presidency. The White House had been stolen, Trump’s supporters claimed. David had naively expected them to leave Canada out of it, but he wasn’t terribly surprised at the idea some fringe conspiracy might have decided he or Trudeau was somehow to blame. But to put together some cockamamie ruse in his own bathroom!? It didn’t make sense, but since when had Donald Trump—

“Remembrance Day? Did you… is today Remembrance Day?” asked the voice, full of hope and fear.

This was not how a prank worked. It did not improvise, and the emotional notes it struck were not hopefulness or anxious deference. But what in the hell else could this be? “Of course it is. Who the hell are you?” David kept his voice just quiet enough so that his wife wouldn’t hear—somehow, if it was all possible, he wanted to spare her from this obscenity.

“My name is Celestia. I’m the reigning monarch of Equestria, Princess of the Sun.” The fulsome voice said all this nonsense as if to get it out of the way, not to impress. And the topper for it all was that David couldn’t detect any theatricality or sarcasm in the voice at all. Not an ounce. If this was a political stunt, it was the strangest one he’d ever heard of. “Will you help me? What do you mean when you say today is Remembrance Day?”

“It’s the anniversary of Armistice, the end of the Great War!” shouted David. “Now what are you doing _in my bathroom?!_ ”

Another bump on the cabinet. “As I said, I was brought here by a magical spell. If I give the signal, my niece will follow. I didn’t know where it would take me, and I’ll happily leave your bathroom if you can arrange secrecy for me. I apologize for this inconvenience. If today is called Remembrance Day here, I must have come to the right place. My people have had their knowledge stripped from them. They desperately need to remember. I know only that the spell was meant to take me to a place where we are known, deeply and truly. In a way not even our own parents know us. I also tried to have it steer me toward a head of state, in hopes things would go more smoothly that way.”

“This is poppycock!” shouted David. Then he remembered the poppy on his nightstand and felt vaguely guilty.

“It’s all true,” said the voice sadly. “Are you alone? If so, I’ll come out, and we’ll see if I can convince you.”

The thing to do, of course, was to stride straight out the door, call for help, and let security take care of this, and then ask a hundred questions until he felt safe laying his head on a pillow again. But… there was a certain quality things had when they were true, and David believed there were certain things lies couldn’t do. An overwhelming part of him was saying: This _can’t_ be a lie. The kind of emotions he was hearing in this plaintive voice couldn’t be faked. Not because there were no actors good enough in the world, but because no one could simultaneously act that well and _want_ a nation thrown into chaos. Anyone that unstable would reveal it in her voice. This couldn’t be true, but it _couldn’t_ be a lie. It had to be some sort of incredibly strange misunderstanding. Was he speaking to an unusually lucid drug addict, perhaps?

He shut the outer door to the bedroom, tenderly, unable to believe he was doing it. Then he went to his bed and stood behind it. He wished he had a gun here in his bedroom, but Rideau was protected by a large detail of RCMP, on top of the various administrative barriers to entrance. He and Sharon had never dreamed they’d need a gun in their bedroom. “All right. Come on out and don’t make any sudden movements.”

The door handle turned and the door opened, slowly, slowly. Bright yellow shone behind it, making David gasp—was this an angel? Was an honest-to-God angel asking for his help? His jaw trembled and he stood gasping, taking shallow, slow breaths. White light followed. A white object, an appendage. A leg? Whiteness exited the bathroom, and David knew he’d been right. He was being visited by an actual angel. Was this his time? Was he being tested?

David drew his hands to his breast—one loosely balled, the other clasped around it—and began to pray. In an urgent afterthought, he slipped his fingers through each other and clasped his hands properly. The white form was adorned, as angels should be, with radiant hair and wings…

Were those… forelegs? It was far too long before David processed the fact that something was wrong. A horse. Was he looking at a horse? _So this is what angels are like_ , said part of him. _No, said another part, no they’re not._

“Are you from God?” he asked, feeling like a fool.

The angel was caught by surprise. “No,” she said, her eyes wide. She gave a little shake of her head. “But I have come fleeing the God-Tremor.”

This frightened David. “What in the name of creation is a God-Tremor?”

“It is a need,” said the angel without unhesitation. “A growing, ceaseless need. It demands to see all, and one by one, it blinds us. It demands to know all, and one by one, we forget our reasons for being. I have seen it leave ponies empty, babbling in confusion out of desperation to hear their own voices. It shakes the land, but the destruction of buildings is only the smallest part of it. It shakes our very identities loose from their moorings!”

David closed his eyes, gasping his breaths. “Who are you?” he repeated helplessly. He wanted to ask whether the creature came from Satan, but he didn’t dare.

“I am the ruler of a desperate people,” said the angel. Her white wings fell closed, but her hair still rolled in an endless wave of sea green, teal, indigo and violet.

“I’m David Johnston,” said David. “And yes, I am a head of state. I’m the Governor General.” This probably wasn’t the time to delineate the distinction between _head of state_ and _head of government_.

“I’m very glad to meet you, David,” said the horse-angel. Was that a horn on her head? Dear Lord, she had a horn. “Will you tell me what country you lead?”

David swallowed. “You’re in Canada.”

“Canada.” She repeated the name with such wonder, such hope. “Please tell me, David. _Am_ I known here? _Is_ Equestria known to the people of Canada?”

David felt almost ashamed to shake his head. “No. I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. You look like an angel.”

“An angel?” The stranger smiled and laughed, and God, did she laugh beautifully. “I do my best to be a good person, but I’ve made my share of mistakes over the years. At times, especially recently, I’ve failed to protect my own country. But if I have _any_ ability to save it this time, I _will._ David, I can see I’m scaring you. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

The creature sat down. David struggled to gather his thoughts. “So you’re _not_ an angel?”

The visitor tilted her head. “I think you must mean something by that I’m not familiar with,” she said. “To me, an angel is a person of impeccable moral behavior.”

David took a breath. “That may be an accepted secondary meaning,” he said. “But an angel, as I mean it, is a servant of God.”

Now it was the visitor’s turn to swallow. “I look like a servant of God?” she asked.

David couldn’t believe he was having this conversation, but truth must out. “To be honest, you look like a… like a creature known as the horse. Well, really, like a unicorn. But I would _never_ have guessed that unicorns were real.”

The white head nodded slowly, and the huge wings rose halfway. “As it happens, you’re very nearly correct. But as you can see, I possess wings. I am an alicorn.”

“Alicorn,” David repeated.

“My sister and I were tapped long ago to rule Equestria for that reason.”

“Equestria,” David said. He was at least partly in his element, now, memorizing facts about a foreign leader. “And your name? I’m sorry, but in the confusion, I missed it.”

“Celestia.” The horse-angel—the alicorn seemed more at ease than before. She seemed to think she could make a friend out of David… and hell, maybe she could, but there was so much more he had to know!

“Celestia. And you have magical abilities? You cast a magic spell to come here?”

“Correct,” said the alicorn, nodding gently. “It was a spell designed in antiquity by Sneak Peak, an ancient mage who specialized in teleportation. My protege worked for days around the clock to update it to our needs, and my sister and I added some details of our own. I’m quite relieved that it worked.”

The visitor was slowly starting to seem more like an actual person, what with protege and sister. “And it sent you here? Why, exactly?”

“I wish I knew,” said Celestia. “Supposedly, my people are known deeply here. We speculated that the spell might take us to meet our creators.”

David shook his head. “I have no idea what that could mean.”

“I admit that I’m confused, David. At first you said you don’t know what I am, but then you said I look like a servant of God… and then a horse, and then a unicorn. Do I really look like all of those things?”

David wanted to flee, but he’d felt that way before, and he knew how to pull himself together. If this emissary thought it was important that she remain unseen by others, then he’d at least try to grant her wish. “You look like a unicorn, only with wings. But unicorns… they’re fictional, or so I believed all my life.”

“Fictional? Do you mean, creatures of stories?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

She smiled brightly. “Then we’re close! Did your people… invent unicorns? Did they create tales about them out of whole cloth?”

“Um… well, not Canadians, specifically, but… human beings, yes.”

“In that sense, you could be our creators. I wonder… I wonder if somehow, on some level, your stories gave us life.”

“I wish I knew. Celestia… is it all right if I call you Celestia, or do you have a title?”

“Technically, I’m ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Princess’. But as we’re both leaders here, and somewhat stuck in the same boat, I don’t mind if you call me by name.”

“Technically, I’m ‘Your Excellency’, said David, tapping his chest. “But… all right. First names it is. Celestia, I’m frightened. I don’t know anything about magic. I don’t know anything about winged unicorns.”

“Nothing about magic?” Celestia rose a little taller, still seated. “Do you _have_ magic here?”

“Not anything real,” admitted David. “At least, not that I thought was real.” For all he knew, everything was changed now.

The emissary seemed troubled. “That may make things difficult.”

“Will it? Your Highness… Celestia, what do you want from me?”

She spoke carefully. “What I need… what my people need, is knowledge. Of ourselves. Of _why_ we are.” She looked carefully around the room. “It seems as though you can’t personally provide that understanding. But perhaps someone here, in this world, can?”

“You need to know why you are,” summed up David.

Celestia nodded hopefully, her eyes large.

David flipped open his hands in a helpless shrug. “God damn.” Why couldn’t it have just been a crazy Trump supporter?


	23. Family

KNOCK KNOCK.

It was like I’d forgotten to feel nervous. Here I was at Peach’s doorstep—or her parents’ doorstep, anyway—and I was nothing but excited. The fact I wasn’t nervous actually _made_ me a little nervous, as if there was something wrong with me.

Rainwater trickled down from the oversized gutter on the comically crooked two-story house before me. There’d been a pattering of rain while we were on the train, making us feel a little less lonely, or maybe a little more. The rain had stopped, but now the dirt roads in Witherton were squelchy. (Peach had even singsonged “Squelch, squelch” as we’d walked.) The town’s architecture had a striking style—’over-the-top ramshackle,’ I’d called it. More than anything, this house reminded me of a big, floppy country hat sitting on a square head. But it just _looked_ decrepit. Nothing was actually falling down, and the rain ran off the roofs instead of leaking inside. So really, it was a matter of style.

We hadn’t seen many ponies out so soon after the rain, but I’d gotten some long stares from the ones we did see. It had given me a little practice explaining myself, actually. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t too—

But the door was opening, and we were off! It creaked just the right amount, leaving us facing a hefty horned stallion the color of burnt sienna. His jaw dropped so slowly I watched it drop.

Peach took the lead. “Dad, you don’t have to be afraid, this is Pepper and he’s my best friend from Earth, I wrote you about him once, and he wanted to visit you! And no this doesn’t mean I’m back, I just came back ‘cause it’s complicated and I’ll be going back to New Jersey soon, but I love you and I wanted to see you!”

Peach’s onslaught seemed to have bought us more time. The stallion’s stunned eyes looked from her to me, and then toward someone else inside. A new head peered out at us: chalk blue with curly blue hair, puffy cheeks and a goofy, amazed smile. “Oh, varnish sakes, it’s an Earthling!!”

“What?” called another feminine voice from within.

“The word is ‘Terran,’” said the orange stallion in an unpolished baritone.

“The word is ‘human,’” interjected Peach, “and he’s really nice and he wants to meet you all! Pepper, this is my Aunt Iggles! I didn’t know you were gonna be here, Iggy! And this is my dad, Crupper.”

Fortunately, I’d been warned about the name ‘Crupper’ ahead of time, so I didn’t crack up. “Pleased to meet you,” I managed.

The puffy cheeks and curly hair turned back inward. “Aggy, there’s an Earthling at your threshold! Now’s the moment when you decide what you’re made of!”

“Are you serious?” came the harried voice from inside.

“Tip to tail!” bellowed Aunt Iggles.

A third face appeared behind the others. Lime green, with short wavy hair gone gray, and visibly fearful. All three were unicorns.

“Hi,” I said, remembering to be nervous again.

Peach repeated her spiel for her mom, but her parents seemed more involved in exchanging glances with each other than attending to their daughter or me.

“I guess you haven’t been reading my blog, huh?” she asked.

Her mom looked ashamed. “It’s a big trip to Long Hedge, and I hate reading off those glowing pages.”

“You can subscribe! I told you, Mom, you can subscribe to a website and they send you scrolls. I thought you were gonna do that.”

She looked confused on top of ashamed. “I couldn’t work out how.”

“Well, I’ll help you with it,” said Peach. “But anyway, Pepper just wants to meet everyone. Is that all right?”

In an act of apparent bravery, Crupper craned his thick neck to examine me. “So you met our girl and came back with her,” he assessed gruffly.

He made it sound like I was a parasite she’d picked up in the course of foolish travels. “Sort of! We were visiting the Crystal Empire, and Princess Cadance suggested I might want to meet her family.”

Peach’s mom, Aglet, wrinkled her face back at this news. “The princess? Sent you here? The _north_ princess?”

“Is it all right if we tell the story inside,” pressed Peach, “instead of out here with the gutter dripping on us?”

The glance between them suggested they weren’t comfortable with that. “It’s fine outside,” said Crupper. “We’ll all go out there and you can tell us everything.”

But the porch wasn’t big enough for all five of us—really, they should have built it bigger, given that four-legged ponies take up more floor space than the same number of two-legged humans would—so we walked a little way up the road to where the houses were sparse, keeping carefully to the drier gravel. Peach’s parents watched me carefully. I could see now that Aglet’s cutie mark was a short cord, or shoelace, with sparks at the ends. Crupper’s looked like a loop of leather.

“Oooh, afraid to let an Earthling in your house, are you, Aggy? Got to make him prove himself first?” cooed Aunt Iggles, who seemed less offended than entertained.

“This surprise came from out of nowhere,” defended Peach’s mother. She had a softly curvaceous build and a timid walk. “Peach Spark, you couldn’t have written about this?”

“It was all sudden plans,” said Peach. “Honestly, Ron’s totally gentle. He’s gentler than I am! You don’t need to be afraid of him.”

“I thought you said his name was Pepper,” said her father.

“That’s his last name. I call him that ‘cause it’s cuter.”

“For what it’s worth,” I put in, “I like your daughter very much.”

Her mother snorted. “She’s a trouble finder, Peach is. Peach, sweet, you really thought this was a good idea?”

Peach’s ears retreated. “Nope, but I did it anyway.”

Aglet gave her daughter an unbelieving look. “Exactly.”

“Do you want to hear how we met?” I asked.

“They probably don’t,” said Aunt Iggles, “but I do! So you can tell me, and they’ll have no choice but to hear.”

So we told curious Aunt Iggles, whose cutie mark was a pile of bracelets with a shining aura, about our relationship to date. We explained why we were in Equestria, and while we skipped over a lot, we didn’t hide anything. Although I didn’t like the suspicious way Peach’s parents were treating me, I found admitting to being her ex-boyfriend wasn’t nearly as awkward as I’d feared. It actually felt good.

She whooped with gaiety. “So you’ve actually taken little Peach to bed?” The idea seemed so funny to her.

“Yeah,” I said, embarrassed.

“I’m not little,” said Peach. “You’re just as little as me.”

Aunt Iggles wasn’t done. “What if you found yourself in the family way?” she laughed.

“That can’t happen!” Peach objected, ears up again. “Humans can’t get ponies pregnant!”

“I know, but what if it did happen?” persisted Iggles. “Wouldn’t that be _something_ , all right?”

“Iggles!” shouted Crupper. He wasn’t far behind us, and he looked mad.

“Aw, think about it. A little half-and-half monstrosity? What do you think it would look like, Crupper? Do you think it would have a tail? Or a horn?”

“Iggy, don’t be disgusting.” Aglet was clearly Iggles’ sister—they had similar coloration and the same roundness to their hips.

“She’s just being herself,” dismissed Crupper. “It’s our daughter I’m surprised by. Didn’t you _promise_ us up and down you weren’t going to let any pony-hungry Terrans seduce you?”

“I’m not pony-hungry,” I pointed out. “I was attracted to her personality.”

“How is that not pony-hungry?!” demanded Crupper, addressing me for the first time. “Your own kind don’t have personalities good enough, then?”

I was caught off guard. “I just meant…”

“He didn’t seduce me,” Peach interrupted. “We got to know each other as friends and he never overstepped or anything. I even started dating another guy, a pony, and Pepper stayed friends with me.”

“You met a stallion on Earth?” gasped her mother. “And you gave him up for this Pepper thing?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said. “Don’t call me a thing.”

“Watch your temper,” said her dad. “You’re in a town full of my friends, and a lot of them have magic.”

Was this actually a dangerous situation? “I’m a person, like you,” I said as levelly as I could. “That’s all I’m saying. You should treat me with basic respect.”

He snorted. His wife gave a little nod. “Well, we’ve met you. And I’m willing to have you inside if it means getting to catch up with my wayward daughter.”

They hadn’t really started to know me much at all, but I let it go. “Okay. Should we go back to your place?”

But Peach had a better idea. “I’ve only got one day, and I want to see everyone. Can’t we get a thing together? That way I can tell everypony at once what I’ve been doing.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll make it happen,” promised Aunt Iggles. “That’s something I’ve _got_ to see.”

Peach snugged her aunt. “Thanks, Auntie.” She raised a hoof toward her parents. “I’m gonna take Pepper to meet Candle, and I think we’’ll go back to my place for bed. But we’ll see you later, either tonight or in the morning.”

“You’d better,” said Aglet. Crupper just stood breathing, torn for words.

I glad to get away, and it seemed like Peach knew it. She led me about until her folks were out of sight, then met my eyes with a funny, plaintive look. I stared back and smiled a slow grin I didn’t mean to smile.

“So that’s what I’m talking about,” said Peach. “Okay, let’s go introduce you to my sister.”  
  


* * *

  
Peach’s sister had a thatch and brick cottage near the Witherton park, not too close to any other houses. Not that many buildings here were nestled up against each other, though. If there was one thing clear about Witherton, it was that it had a lot of space.

“Candle, may I introduce my until-this-morning boyfriend, Counselor Pepper from Earth? Pepper, this is my one and only sister, Candle Seed.”

Her hair was perfectly symmetrical as it drooped on either side of her face. Somehow, even though she had an orange coat and yellow hair, her hair was darker. Her mark was a meek little votive candle floating on a lilypad. Her front hooves immediately leapt to the top edge of the bottom half of her Dutch door. “Peach! You really do have a human coltfriend! Airway said you were blogging about it but I thought from the way she said it you were probably kidding!”

Peach reared likewise, the mares’ front hooves clicking against each other. “I totally wasn’t kidding! I was just under a spell! It made me in love with him, but then when the spell ended I realized I still loved him because the spell had forced me to stop fooling myself, but he didn’t quite love me anymore, not like I did, so it’s all this crazy tragedy.’

Peach’s sister looked at me. “But he’s still here with you.”

Peach seemed pretty relaxed. “Yeah, we’re still friends. Besides, that was this morning, so I haven’t had time to really get over him yet.”

“I’m just amazed to be here,” I said.

“Well, come in! Tell me all about it.”

Candle Seed’s place was tiny, with barely room for us all in the main room—but with our apartment back home, we were getting used to that sort of thing. She set out stone cups of well water for us on a wicker table, and Peach told her story—a quick summary of her time on Earth, starting from before she’d met me and going all the way to where we were. Her sister asked numerous questions, so curious it was painful.

“What’s it like on Earth just… going from one place to another?”

“Well, it’s a big city, so it’s like big cities here, on top of being kind of… intimidating, I guess. Like I’m in the wrong place and the city’s just daring me to keep being a pony and see what happens. The humans gawk at me sometimes, and sometimes they can be mean. But sometimes… there’s this feeling in the air, like you can be anything and anyone, and it’s all fine. When that happens, I feel proud to be a unicorn amid all the different-looking humans. It’s more common in New York than Elizabeth, but that feeling really makes me feel special.”

Candle Seed hung on every word. “I wish I could go. Just for a little while.”

“You should totally! Get a passport!”

She hung her head and chewed her lip, unable to answer.

“What’s wrong, Candle?” I asked.

“I’m not really up to it. I could say it’s too long away from work, or too much hassle and money to get a passport… but really, I’m just too afraid.” Her head and tail sagged.

I got up from Candle’s squashy sofa and set the palm of my hand on her mane. She looked up at me with a trembling jaw. I gave her a little stroke and sat down again. She closed her eyes and let her head hang.

“Come on, Candle. If you want to be brave, I can help you be brave,” said Peach, nuzzling her sister on the nose.

“I don’t know if being brave is for me,” Candle said. She faced me. “But you should really stick with Peach. You might not know it, but my sister is one of the bravest ponies there is.”

Peach was embarrassed already, sitting back. “Aw, c’mon!”

“She’s the bravest pony in town,” said Candle Seed boldly. “That’s just a fact. When they announced the portals were open, Peach was the only one who talked about going through. The only one. Everyone else gossiped about what was on the other side, but nopony else even wanted to take a peek, let alone _live_ there. And when Peach finally decided she had to go, the gossip started being about _her_. But she still went. She still went, and she didn’t run back but she _stayed_ , and now you’re the result. Peach, you brought back a treasure!”

I smiled proudly. Not at being called a treasure, but because… because I’d been the one to make Peach feel welcome on Earth. I’d been her first real friend on the other side.

“I did! I found some great stuff over there, and I’ll show you the clothes later, but the best thing I found is Pepper! And I learned basic electronics and boolean logic and some circuit board etching techniques and architecture before I went over, too!”

Candle bucked up. “That sounds like a lot of great stuff to learn!”

“It’s okay. I don’t use much of it, except the etching part. Basically my coworkers just give me schematics and I burn them, or make changes they want me to make. But it’s not so bad. I get to talk to them, and I think some of them are starting to respect me a little.”

This didn’t really reassure Candle much. “Oh,” she said, her posture melting.

“Really, what I’m most proud of these days is my blog. I have thousands of readers! Maybe even ten thousand by now. I feel kind of guilty I’m not updating it now, but I’ll have lots of great stuff once I’m back.”

“That place is your home now, isn’t it?” asked Candle Seed sadly. “More than this is?”

Peach swallowed. “That’s a good question.” She was silent a while.

“Maybe you should write a poem about it,” I suggested.

“Maybe I should,” she agreed.

Candle Seed turned hopefully to me. “Can I touch your fingers?” she asked.

I chuckled, surprised. “Sure.” I held out my hand.

I expected her to put her nose in it, but she touched me with her magic, instead. Burning yellow-orange pressure felt its way carefully over my fingers, lingering on the soft part below my thumb. Candle felt her way over my palm and down my arm a bit before letting her telekinetic touch fall away.

“Thanks,” she said bashfully.

“No problem."

“You mentioned Airway giving you updates on my blog?” said Peach.

“Yeah! She’s really good about that. She checks it anytime she’s in Long Hedge or Winsome or anyplace with a net hub.”

“Is she in town now? I’d love to see her.”

“I don’t think she’s on any overnight trips right now! You should check in.”

“All right, I will.” Peach finished her water and got up. “And you should check in with our folks, they’re gonna try and get a meet-up together for me. Maybe tonight.”

Candle Seed stood up. “I will. It was great to talk for a while, though, just you and me.” She looked my way. “And your treasure, of course.”

“Apply for that passport,” said Peach. “I’ll pay you back the money if you do.” She glanced at me for a moment.

“I’ll try and get up the courage,” said Candle Seed.

We went back to treading the soggy roads. It was nearly dark. “So that’s my sister,” Peach remarked.

“It seems like she admires you a lot.”

“Yeah. I wish she could be brave.”

“I wish I could be brave sometimes.”

Peach looked at me for a while. “You can,” she said. “I give you my permission.”

I laughed. She just looked at me with steady eyes.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay, you’ll be brave now?”

“Okay,” I repeated.

She started walking again. “So, Pepper, are you still my money manager or not? I didn’t know whether to ask you before I offered to pay Candle’s fee.”

“I think you’re a grown-up and you should be in charge of your own money,” I said.

“Even though I’m so bad at it?”

I set my hand on her withers as we walked. “Maybe if you can teach me to be brave, I can teach you basic finance.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”  
  


* * *

  
Clear Airway was a pegasus with a simple house built in an elm tree. A broad rope ladder stretched from the entrance and was anchored to a tree root some distance away, allowing non-winged ponies to walk up at the price of some of their dignity.

I was better at climbing than Peach, so I reached the top first.

“You can knock!” Peach encouraged me.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to surprise her!”

“If you knew her, you would! She’s fun when she’s surprised.”

I shrugged and knocked. When the door opened, the pegasus before me burst into flight right where she stood and nearly startled me into falling back into the ladder. “HOLY SPUMONI!”

I clung to one of the posts abutting the door. The pegasus was white as angelfood cake, with hair like tufts of scraggly grass. “Don’t hurt me! I’m a friend! I’m with Peach Spark!”

“You’re with Peach?!” She peered down and saw Peach climbing gamely. With a gasp, she started to laugh. “Of course! You’re Ron! You’re her boy! What are you doing here in Equestria?” And she called down: “Peach! I didn’t know you were coming home!”

“It’s a sort of long story,” I said.

“Pepper,” yelled Peach as cordially as she could while half out of breath, “this is my childhood friend Clear Airway. We’ve been best friends for pretty much forever even though she likes making me do dumb stuff like climb rope ladders.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, and Clear Airway shook my hand with her wingtip. “Is she the friend you sang that song about when you were a filly?” I called down.

“Oh pineapples, you sang him our song?” exclaimed the pegasus. “You must really be serious.”

I looked apologetic. “Actually… we’ve pretty much decided it didn’t work out. But we’re still close…”

“Oh, zucchini bread! You’re saying you broke up? After those sweet posts on her blog? After that whole thing about how she’s better for you than Cindy?”

It was weird hearing a pony mention my ex-fiance’s name out of the blue. “It was kind of a weird mix-up,” I explained.

Clear Airway leapt and flew down to bolster Peach from below, flapping her wings hard so that the unicorn could use her head for a step. “I’m gonna need the whole story,” she said.

Peach let herself dangle from the ropes and hugged her friend in mid-air, battered by the gust from her wings. “I’ll tell you the quick version. If you want the full version, you’ve gotta come over! We’re gonna have a party…”  
  


* * *

  
Some of Clear Airway’s furniture was made of clouds. I found myself sitting in a rope chair and leaning on a cloud credenza. It was soft on the outside and hard on the inside, and somehow felt wet without leaving moisture on my elbow. Running my hand across it gave me the same sensation.

“So it just turned out you weren’t sweet on ponies?” asked our host. “After all that?”

“After all that,” I shrugged. “Before the spell, I was getting close to Peach emotionally, but… I still had reservations about getting physical. We hadn’t even kissed. I thought it might be possible… I wanted to experiment, but I wasn’t sure I’d like it.”

“You were ponycurious,” said Clear Airway.

“Ron!” accused Peach. “You wanted to be my special somepony and you were just ponycurious?”

“Well I couldn’t be ponycertain!” I countered. You were the first I’d met!”

“I wish you liked the way I look,” said Peach petulantly. “It makes me feel bad about myself that you don’t.”

“I do like the way you look,” I reassured her. “It just… isn’t what I think of when I think ‘sexy.’ It’s only now that we’ve actually… been together in bed that I know I can’t be attracted to ponies like that.”

“So you had your pony curiosity satisfied, and it didn’t measure up,” summed up Clear Airway.

“It did at the time. Not after Cadance cleared her spell out, though.”

“In a way, it’s good the spell happened,” Peach mused. “This way, you learned what you had to learn but we got to have fun too.”

She was right. “You don’t suppose… Cadance could have planned it like that?”

Peach wrinkled her face. “I don’t think so. She seemed pretty genuinely sorry.”

“Whatever, whatever,” said Clear Airway. “It’s not for us to try and guess why princesses do what they do. Better to just assume that when they’re involved everything works out for the best.”

“Cadance isn’t as trollicious as Celestia,” Peach mused. “But she does have a naughty side…”

“PEACH!” Her friend hovered above her, whacking her with air. “Let it go! You’re here now! You’re happy, mostly. Right? Just let it be.”

She hung her head. “Ron’s moving away,” she said.

“Oh.” Clear Airway landed. She looked sadly at me. “Well, I hope wherever you go, you find what you’re looking for.”

What was I looking for? Nothing, really. I just wanted to regroup so I could start looking for something new. But I didn’t say that aloud.

“I hope he does too,” said Peach. “But let’s be more happy. Airway, what’s new with you?”

“Oh, well, nothing as exciting as your life! Firework parades and riding horses and meeting princesses and learning about who you are! But I did swing over to Long Hedge the other day. They finally started doing those antimatter tests!”

Clear Airway was a courier and messenger, but she also loved news and gossip, and the fact that pony scientists were carrying out tests directed by humans in the nearby city of Long Hedge had attracted her attention. It helped the the tests were supposedly dangerous. Antimatter was scary business. All most people knew about it was that it if it touched ordinary matter, it blew up, and the explosion was huge.

I admitted that was about all I knew, either. But according to our host, Terran scientists had started to formulate theories that antimatter might behave differently in Equestria than on Earth. For example, it was generally believed that antimatter was affected by gravity just like ordinary matter was—it attracted other matter. But some theoretical physicists were starting to speculate that maybe Equestrian antimatter experienced reverse gravity, and was _repelled_ by other matter. Maybe, some speculated, that was related to pegasus flight, or possibly even the source of magic itself.

“Oh yeah! My friend Second Sight was telling me about that,” said Peach. “They’re doing work on that at her lab. She even tried to get me to apply, since they need unicorns with small-scale telekinesis.”

“Wow,” said Clear Airway. “It sounds perfect for you.”

“Yeah, but it sounds dangerous too! She says I wouldn’t be working directly with antimatter, but then what’s the point?”

“Did you ask Second Sight that?” I asked.

“She said it’s for things like proof of concept, or to research the scale limits of unicorn magic. Something like that. It makes me queasy but I don’t tell her that.”

I fuzzled Peach’s hair. “Aren’t you supposed to be one of the bravest ponies there is?”

She looked ashamed. “That’s what my sister thinks, but I’m not brave about everything. Only some things.”

I hugged her. Then I looked to Clear Airway. “Were you saying they had other theories about antimatter?”

She looked excited. “Have you ever heard of something called an exotic atom?”

Peach and I exchanged looks. We hadn’t.

Clear Airway lifted her wings. “An exotic atom is a kind of atom that you don’t normally get. Usually that’s because if it happens, it blows up.” She threw her wings apart wildly and made an explosive sound effect. “For example, if you have an electron and its antiparticle, a positron, you get an exotic atom. It falls into itself and blows up. But…”

“But what?” asked Peach.

“But Terran scientists told our scientists about how they create antiparticles, then let them blow up again. They were telling them about all kinds of experiments, just so they could replicate them in Equestria. Most of them worked. But this one didn’t. So far, nopony has been able to create antimatter in Equestria.”

“Wait,” I said. “Then how could it be powering magic?”

Clear Airway started to flap and hover just under her own roof. “Correction. Nopony has been able to make antimatter _explode_ in Equestria. But what if that’s because things are different here? On Earth, when antiparticles meet, they destroy each other in a big explosion. But what if… here in Equestria, antiparticles don’t destroy each other?” She stared at us with excitement. “What if… they _get along?_ ”

“Whoa,” said Peach.

“Whoa is right,” said Clear Airway. “I’ve missed you.”  
  


* * *

  
Ten minutes later, Peach found getting down from the ladder just as hard as going up. I helped her on the descent, propping up one front ankle. It was night now, but Peach figured it wasn’t too late to make one more stop at her cousins’ wheat and potato farm.

Halfway there, though, she stopped short and hunched her back, eyes going wide. She gave me an uncomfortable look, then heaved suddenly forward, spewing a light purple banner that twirled magically in mid-air and seemed to be made of silk.

“What? What?” I panicked.

Peach recovered her senses and mingled her magic with the banner’s, throwing it open. “It’s from my aunt’s friend Velvetica. She does this.” The banner was printed with Equestrian letters I couldn’t understand. While spoken Equestrian was just about isomorphic to English, it had its own alphabet and spelling that were surprisingly difficult to pick up.

“‘Dear Peach and friend,’ she read aloud. ‘Your aunt Iglet is pleased to invite you to a warm reception at her house and estate, to be held tonight at the hour of nine. Please trust that invitations for the whole family will be taken care of. Sincerely, Lady Velvetica.’”

“Oh! Well that’s nice!”

Peach was delighted. “Yeah! I guess we don’t need to go to Terret and Martingale’s place. What time is it?”

“Half past eight.”

She flared forward. “Just enough time to show you the fairgrounds! Come on!”

I dashed after my companion, who had to wait for me because she was better at navigating the still soggy ground, plus the whole number of legs thing. We passed between slightly ominous steepled two-story buildings and hit another gravel road, and then we cleared a line of houses and arrived at a downward incline I hadn’t expected. Peach dashed down the little hill toward a pond with two tall willow trees growing beside it. I straggled after.

“We hold our fairs here,” she explained, sides heaving. “Twice a year, plus we sometimes get the regional one. We get fisherponies from Riverbreadth and Winsome Falls, hucksters from who knows where…” She then pointed to a relatively bare spot past one of the trees. “That’s where I had my first job! Burning pictures into grains of rice.”

I walked over and tried to imagine a stall with a sign. “Was it popular?”

“Pretty popular, yeah! Ponies liked trying to stump me.”

“You have a lot of memories tied up here?”

She grinned. “Absolutely! How could I not? The fair’s the biggest thing we usually do around here. I remember how my friends and me used to mess with the frisbee players, making their frisbees shift a little in mid-air, then pretending it wasn’t us.”

I grinned. “Isn’t that kind of mean?”

She tented her ears. “Well, yeah, but I think they knew it’d happen when they started playing. Besides, sometimes we made them catch the frisbees better!” She pointed to the pond. “Went chubby dipping there a couple summers.”

“Chubby dipping?”

“Yeah, you know! When you put on clothes and g… huh.” Her ears splayed amusingly. “I bet humans don’t do that, huh? You already always have clothes on!”

I laughed. “We have ‘skinny dipping.’ Where we go in naked.”

Her eyes were wide. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Did it a few times myself, in Van Sciver Lake.”

“That’s hilarious. You know what?”

“What?”

“Even if I don’t end up with a human, I still love the human world. No, what I love even better is the way it relates to us. Equestria and Earth have this ridiculous relationship… and I love it.” She rolled onto her back and stuck her legs up.

I walked over. “You were after the answer to that relationship when I met you. And you still are, huh?”

She nodded, her legs straightened in different directions.

“You think maybe it’s about humor?”

She considered, then rolled over onto her hooves. “I don’t know. Humor’s definitely part of it, though! Is anything ever really _about_ humor?”

“Sure. Comedy acts. Clowns.”

“I think even then, humor’s just a vessel. It’s a way we take things.”

“Then what are comedy acts really about?”

She thought in stillness. “They’re about whatever they’re about, and humor is the juice you squeeze out.” Then she pointed to a pile of little stones and trotted for them. “Oh! There’s where we used to hold our bonfires! Me and the gang.”

“You have a gang?” I asked.

“When I was in high school. A bunch of them moved away… and I guess I did too.”

She showed me a few more landmarks, describing fun activities she’d known there by day or night, when the fair was in session and when it wasn’t. Then I reminded her what time it was and we skedaddled off toward her aunt’s place on the field.  
  


* * *

  
It was a moderately sized rancher just as crooked-looking as the rest of the houses in town. There was a sizable lawn cut into the prairie grass with a pretty little garden off to one side. A pair of pegasi happened to arrive at the same time we did and called down a greeting.

Peach looked up. “Oh! It’s the cartwrights. Heyo!”

They were a forty-something married couple, brown and tan, called Wheel Nave and Waterjack. Peach explained that they were family friends and had taken her sister as an apprentice a long time ago, before she’d decided carts and wagons weren’t for her. (Lamps and lanterns, it turned out, were more her tune, which you’d think someone would have realized from her name and cutie mark, but hey. Ponies.) I waved and said “Pleased to meet you,” and if the cartwrights weren’t outright bigoted, they were at least wary of me.

“He’s safe, yeah?” called the mare, Wheel Nave. “No nasty tricks up his sleeve?”

“Nope, unless he decides to tickle you,” said Peach. “Human fingers are tickly.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I quickly clarified.

“All right,” said Waterjack cautiously, alighting. “We’re not used to humanfolk around here. So long as you treat us right, though, I expect we’ll treat you right.”

I promised them that I intended to treat them right, and on that note we all entered the house.

I’d been wrong to think there was only one story. The main room had a high ceiling, but there was a railing around the upper wall leading to what must have been some cozy bedrooms, built more for pony height than human. The carpet and all the walls were friendly grays, and there were decorations. A twirling shape dangled from a hook in the middle of the ceiling, a single ring of blue streamers encircled the room, and various baubles sat on white tables scattered everywhere. Ponies were sitting in funny positions on funny furniture or just eschewing it to stand or lie on the carpet.

When we entered, all eyes turned to us and there were assorted cheers mixed with apprehension. “Oh look,” cried Iggles from the upper railing, “it’s the prodigal daughter! So glad you two made it!”

“Well we couldn’t _not_ come,” said Peach. “Thanks so much for getting this together, Aunt Iggles!”

“No problem at all,” said the curly-haired hostess, who was wearing a floofy blue dress that matched the streamers. “Your parents’ place isn’t really big enough, anyway.” I imagined they hadn’t wanted to host anything like this, either, so that was a handy excuse.

They were present, though, speaking in low voices and looking uncomfortable. I also recognized Candle Seed and Clear Airway, along with a bunch of unicorns Peach seemed to know. I was pretty sure I knew which one was Velvetica—she was dark purple and sturdily built, with a mane and tail that hung thickly and a cloth banner for a cutie mark. There were a few pegasi, but I didn’t notice any earth ponies. I scanned the room, and nope—not a single one.

“Is that a human?” I heard someone asking.

“I’m figuring he must be a vegetarian,” said someone else. “They have those. They wouldn’t bring him here if he were a meat-eater.”

Before I could decide whether to reply that, in fact, being inclined toward eating meat didn’t mean I was going to compulsively grab any pony I saw and start gnawing, Peach was in front of me with a pair of lean unicorn stallions, chestnut and coffee-colored. “Pepper, I want to introduce you to my favorite cousins, Terret and Martingale. They’re sons of my dad’s brother and they do all sorts of jobs around town!”

They stood still, Terret licking the inside of his cheek. “Well, hello there,” said Martingale cautiously, as if he were addressing a wild animal.

“Hi, I’m Pepper,” I said, deciding the nickname was safer. “I don’t bite, honest! I’m from New Jersey.” In retrospect, this wasn’t a very good line.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to bite,” said Terret with equal caution.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Peach huffed. “Guys, be friendly. You probably have things in common.”

They looked me over. “Oh, I’m sure we do. Oodles of things in common,” Martingale said.

“I work at a garden store,” I volunteered.

“Well, we do work with gardens occasionally,” said Terret slowly. “But we don’t work in a garden store. So that’s one thing we don’t have in common.”

I wanted so badly to get out of this conversation. “Well, anyway… Peach, weren’t you planning to tell everyone about your time on Earth?”

Ponies were already chiming for Peach’s attention and asking about her experiences. She looked to Aunt Iggles, who smiled and blew a little whistle that won the room’s attention with a comical rising sound.

“Folks, my beloved niece Peach Spark has a story to tell,” she announced, coming down the stairs. “But before she begins, I want a sense of who here wants grub. Everypony here already had supper?”

There was a general clamor to the effect of, yes, we’ve eaten, but we sure wouldn’t mind a little tea or some hors d’oeuvres. Clear Airway beat her wings over the crowd and swore on crumbling hotcakes that yes, she was hungry. Iggles acquiesced and took her sister into the kitchen to help whip something up. Conversation resumed and I found myself approached by a whole cluster of ponies at once, curious to know about me.

“How did you meet Peach?”

“Are you dating?”

“How did you get let into Equestria? Are they just letting anyone in now?”

“Is it proper to say ‘human being,’ or is just ‘human’ more polite?”

“Er, well, actually…”

I did my best to handle them all. Peach’s parents never talked to me, and a few others kept their distance, but making conversation helped me feel gradually more comfortable. Finally, Iggles and Aglet emerged from the kitchen with trays of singed-crust cheesy mushroom bites and marinated endive rolls and ‘pigs in a blanket’ (the pigs were baby carrots). “Order up!” bellowed Iggles, and the crowd gravitated their way and started munching.

I was nervous to ask for any, but lunch on the train had been a while ago, so I worked my way humbly over and managed not to scare too many ponies. As for those offended that I was even there, there wasn’t much I could do except just behave myself.

Once I had a little plate of hors d’oeuvres, I had an excuse for not answering everyone’s questions at once. And the fact that I was eating something other than meat seemed to put a few of them at ease.

It seemed like Peach’s aunt wanted her house to have a definite eccentric feel, which was why she kept furniture not quite built for pony bodies. It turned out one of the recumbent chairs fit me pretty well, though, so I relaxed back into it and ate, knowing I looked silly and not caring.

“Everyone, everyone!” said Iggles, magically tinking a fork against a platter. “I invited Peach Spark here so we could all hear about her adventures on the far side of the portal. It turns out she’s been getting naughty with the natives!” She leered and winked toward me; I tried to avoid attention. “So, what say we hear her story? Peach? The floor’s all yours!”

Peach was obviously nervous at first. She started slowly, talking about her crash course in Long Hedge to prepare her for the job she’d been offered at ThuneTec. She talked about all the stumbles she’d had after arriving on Earth—not knowing how to cash her first paycheck, paying too much for taxi rides, having trouble with doorknobs. (Apparently Equestria did have doorknobs, but they were made for easy gripping and low resistance, and Terran ones had stymied her at first.) She described how scary and lonely it was learning to navigate her huge office building. But then, as things started to look up, she started to get more confident in her storytelling.

“Then one day, I was reading one of my company manuals and feeling lonely… and there was a knock on the door.”

Out of nowhere, I teared up. Amazingly, Peach did too. “I answered it. There was a man there. But he wasn’t angry at me and he didn’t want to sell me anything.” She looked at me, and half the room’s eyes did too. “He was carrying a cake.”

I looked at Peach’s parents then, without planning to. I saw her mother’s face soften right in front of my eyes. I could see it in her father’s stance, too. Right then—that was when Peach won the room over, and it was also when they started to warm up to me. They knew I was the man she was talking about.

“The cake had pineapples in it,” continued Peach.  
  


* * *

  
A good hour later, she finally finished. She was worn out by then, but eagerly wanted to answer everyone’s questions. What’s a blog? What is the Jersey shore? What’s a circuit board? What is Princess Cadance like in person? Did you really meet Princess Twilight and Fluttershy too? It was exhausting. I spoke a few times, just to clarify some point Peach had forgotten or because someone asked me for my perspective. And by the time her story was done, I wasn’t a scary alien anymore. I was a friendly alien.

“Are you telling us,” asked Velvetica, “that you went with our beloved Peach all the way to the Crystal Empire, only to break her heart?”

I couldn’t tell if she was being facetious or serious. “I don’t think her heart’s broken,” I answered. “And I don’t think she would have wanted me to be dishonest and say I could still be her boyfriend if I didn’t feel that way.”

“I wouldn’t,” put in Peach.

Off to the side, her father nodded. “Better this way, anyhow.”

“Are you really going back, Peach?” asked one of the cousins. “You won’t stay with us?”

“I’ve got a job there,” Peach answered. “Two jobs, really. ThuneTec is counting on me and so are my readers.”

“You had folks here who counted on you,” remarked Waterjack. “It’s hard doing the fine engraving and shaping without you.”

“What I’m doing now is more important,” said Peach.

There was a preponderance of reluctant acceptance and nodding. These ponies understood about destinies.

“I should get home,” said Clear Airway, perched on the upper rail. “Got to get up early. But I’ll try and see you off, Peach. Pepper.”

“I’m so glad you were here,” said Peach, straining her neck upward.

A number of the guests had one last nibble and gave their farewells, to hostess and honoree alike. A few were polite enough to wish me luck.

It was quieter then. Peach lingered with the cartwrights to get the local news she’d missed. I chatted quietly with a young unicorn stallion who wasn’t related to Peach, but had come to find out what the fuss was about. He told me he might think about visiting Earth someday. I tried to give him some useful tips in case he did.

Then he had to leave, and I was left alone.

“Shouldn’t we have a poem, Iggles?” proposed Crupper when there was too much silence.

“I always like the poems you have at your fêtes,” said Candle Seed mildly.

“Right, right! Quite right!” said Iggles. She swooped a foreleg around and clapped the floor, startling Velvetica. “To the library, one and all!”

We all filed through the rear door into the room under the upstairs bedrooms. It was cozy, with one wall full of books and a fireplace in another. There were chairs and cushions in here; Peach led me to the sole loveseat before anyone else could claim it.

There were eleven of us in that little library, and I felt a wave of weirdness now that I was in such close quarters with so many people who’d never met anyone of my species before. Somehow it hadn’t felt as immediate in the larger room.

Iggles turned about to take stock once everyone was settled. “Peach, dearest? As the guest of honor, would you like to read?”

Peach stood up, but then looked back at me. “Actually, I think Pepper is the real guest of honor. He’s never been here before. Do you want to pick a poem?”

“Oh, come on,” said Peach’s mother.

Peach gave her a cheeky look. “If you want to see my poetry, just ask Airway to help you subscribe to my blog.”

This silenced Aglet, and no one else objected. I got up with a nervous smile. “I don’t know any Equestrian poems. Should I just pick a book at random?”

“Look, if he doesn’t know any, I can pick one,” said Martingale.’’

“Shush,” said Iggles. “Pepper, the poetry section is right over here.” She paced to a shelf and switched her tail against it.

I scanned the bindings. _Thoughts by Zinnia…_ _A Selection of Pre-Celestial Verse…_ _To Hope Against Hope…_ _Life Meets the Marchioness…_ “Oh!” I smiled in grave amusement. “Looks like there _is_ one I know.” I pulled out a slim gray volume called _Even Even More Poems About Rocks_.

Peach’s sister giggled.

“Is that the Maud Pie?” asked Wheel Nave.

“Excellent choice,” said Iggles. “One of those should settle us down.”

I walked to the empty fireplace and turned, a little self-conscious, toward my audience. “All right, here’s one called ‘Being Friends with Boulders.’”

“Seems fitting,” said Terret.

“Shush,” said Iggles.

I read aloud, taking it slow and putting in plenty of pauses:

> There's nothing colder   
>  than a boulder
> 
> The way they talk   
>  is like chalk.
> 
> The way they relate   
>  Is like slate.
> 
> The first time we played sports   
>  felt like quartz.
> 
> The first time that we kissed   
>  felt like schist.
> 
> Sometimes you need a friend   
>  who's consistent end to end
> 
> (Unless, of course, this particular   
>  boulder happens to be vesicular.)

A smattering of hoofbeats greeted the poem’s end. “Do you know,” said Wheel Nave to Waterjack, “I think she was going for irony.”

“Maud Pie doesn’t do irony,” he murmured back.

“Really? I think her stuff is solid irony,” countered Candle Seed.

“Well done!” said Peach, coming up to join me. “I like that one.”

“Well, and after all,” said Aglet, “if people can make friends with boulders, I suppose they can make friends with anyone.”

Peach gave her a funny look.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to read one, Peach?” asked Iggles. “We’re all geared up for another, I think!”

Peach grunted smugly. “All right, fine.” She scanned the shelves briefly before plucking out a tome and hovering it in her electric blue aura. “I always loved this poem. It’s a classic. I could never write like this. ‘The First Meadow,’ by Pinfeather.”

“Oh, I love hearing you read that one!” exclaimed her mother.

I went back to the love seat and settled in. Around me, the other listeners made themselves comfortable. Peach took a breath and began to read:

  


> **The First Meadow**
> 
> Before the birth of birth or growth   
>  of This-Is-What and This-Is-Why,   
>  the whole world in one meadow stood   
>  though nowhere had it walls nor ends   
>  but only vistas on all sides   
>  unoccupied by breath or hoof   
>  but soon to be, as time began.
> 
> At one end rushed a waterfall.   
>  No ducks or loons or lotus bloom   
>  adorned its course of ceaseless blue;   
>  it only spoke of motion wet;   
>  of Things-That-Pass and Things-That-Fall   
>  And at its brink, a spray rose up   
>  as if the ghost of waters gone.
> 
> Before it spread a land of green   
>  The primal color, lush and full   
>  In places short, in others tall   
>  its grasses, known by modern names   
>  as crested dogstail, timothy,   
>  sweet vernal grass and cocksfoot, but   
>  known then without a name at all.
> 
> To one side dropped a mighty cliff   
>  so suddenly that tiny rocks   
>  would plummet at a hoof's mere touch.   
>  The only things that chose to grow   
>  upon the cliff were small white stones,   
>  And far below a sense of land   
>  But nothing one could comprehend.
> 
> The other way, a forest dark,   
>  its only purpose to impose.   
>  And maybe to suggest a place   
>  whence other things in time might come   
>  To mitigate a sense of small   
>  in favor of a sense of Home—   
>  of Place-That-Is and Place-That-Ought.
> 
> And opposite the waterfall   
>  There lay a heap of tumbled logs   
>  Of ancient roots and flagstone rock   
>  ascending slowly past the sky   
>  So as to grant a place to go   
>  for those who wanted something more:   
>  A place to watch the meadow from.
> 
> Despite these things on every side   
>  There was a sense of endless space   
>  as if the meadow had no bounds   
>  except for what a meadow is;   
>  That any room required to roam   
>  or romp, or speak, or secrets keep   
>  was there without the need to ask.
> 
> There was no sun yet in the sky,   
>  but even then came day and night:   
>  The days both long and strangely quick,   
>  the nights cool, brief and absolute,   
>  no moon or stars to shine a whit.   
>  With every morning came a coat   
>  of dew upon the weighted grass.
> 
> This was the first primeval time,   
>  before which time did not exist.   
>  The very first of moments came   
>  when one small creature realized   
>  That it was there; it sat alive.   
>  It came to know the ins and outs   
>  of What-Is-Me and What-Is-Not.
> 
> A texture spread throughout this place   
>  so that no sense of flat prevailed   
>  but secrets hid in ev'ry step   
>  And there was room for tiny things—   
>  For worms and bugs and butterflies   
>  And then, in other rolling folds   
>  for frogs, and snakes, and jackalopes.
> 
> The largest of all animals   
>  walked evenly across the ground   
>  Through gully, crag or endless flat—   
>  So long as it was green with grass   
>  She took it gently with her hooves.   
>  Her coat shone always without stain   
>  a flawless, gleaming pearly white.
> 
> Her haunches gave her strength of leg;   
>  Her nape was straight, her neck held high   
>  Her face possessed of great control,   
>  she saw all things both great and small.   
>  There was no need for sun or moon   
>  with her to walk the meadow's length,   
>  a landmark for each living thing.
> 
> She had a horn upon her head   
>  Although she couldn't tell you why.   
>  And every creature, seeing it   
>  knew that the world was her domain.   
>  For power lurked within that horn   
>  And power never sleeps for long:   
>  From power, something must result.
> 
> The creatures learned each others' ways   
>  and soon enough, they learned to speak   
>  And over time, they crafted bonds   
>  more complicated than the grass,   
>  more enigmatic than a tree,   
>  more delicate than spider's silk,   
>  and deeper than the thickest stone.
> 
> There was a steady, growing sense   
>  that someday something had to change;   
>  Their home was not the whole of life   
>  but just a cradle out from which   
>  they someday would be bound to crawl.   
>  And wild flowers sprouted up   
>  and filled the meadow with their joy.
> 
> This season was the world's first spring   
>  Against which other springs are laid   
>  and marveled at, and measured up   
>  (for all of us remember it)   
>  until in some way they fall short   
>  and by these defects are they known.   
>  It lasted full one million days.
> 
> And as these million days played out   
>  while flowers grew and colors bloomed   
>  to mark the dawning of the world,   
>  Ten million stories came to pass   
>  A few of which we know today,   
>  but most of which have passed away   
>  into the place where stories live.
> 
> In time, new creatures came to be:   
>  The sly raccoon, the rooting hog   
>  And other forms that stories bear.   
>  At last, there came the smallest horse:   
>  An Eohippus, bright and strong   
>  Who still had toes on all four feet   
>  and pranced along the grassy ground.
> 
> This creature watched the Unicorn   
>  and courted her for days on end.   
>  He brought her branches from the wood   
>  that they might sit and share their leaves;   
>  he praised her with a braying song   
>  and danced about her endlessly   
>  and laid with her when nighttime fell.
> 
> In all the stretched out days before   
>  the Unicorn had mingled much   
>  with ev'ry creature that there was,   
>  and yet, this was the first of all   
>  that struck her as alike to her:   
>  As Beast-with-Hooves, not Beast-Unshod,   
>  And so she opened up her heart.
> 
> At last, like treacle dripping slow,   
>  the power of her horn began   
>  to loose itself, and then to spread   
>  Until the meadow felt itself   
>  awakening, for full and good   
>  And yellow sunshine beat upon   
>  the land, which now no limits knew.
> 
> The rats and beavers clambered up   
>  the logs, and found what lay beyond;   
>  The songbirds swooped beyond the cliff   
>  and darted down to fill the land;   
>  The bears and snakes explored the trees   
>  and made the forest's deeps their own;   
>  And frogs flew down the waterfall.
> 
> The Unicorn was left behind   
>  with Eohippus at her side,   
>  and through this union flowed her force,   
>  both leadership and love of life   
>  to all the world, and summer came   
>  and power burbled everywhere:   
>  The grandeur of a million days.
> 
> And then the Unicorn gave life   
>  itself, not merely love of it:   
>  A child, born from early horse   
>  and perfect ruler, intermixed.   
>  And as more horses came to be,   
>  more children came into the world   
>  Until the equine race was born.
> 
> The world is filled with unicorns   
>  and even some with Horn and Wing;   
>  but none can match the perfect grace   
>  of that first walker of the sod,   
>  who lived in times so young and fresh   
>  that defects were unknown to her   
>  just as they were to everyone.
> 
> The Unicorn still walks today,   
>  despite the fact she shares her age   
>  with Everything; because you see,   
>  she is a perfect entity,   
>  and perfect things can never die.   
>  Where she walks, it is always spring,   
>  which means she must be far away.
> 
> But if she were to die someday,   
>  then that would grant perfection's edge   
>  to What-Is-Not above What-Is,   
>  and so Perfection would be Void   
>  and this would spell the world’s end.   
>  The reason she walks far abroad   
>  is so that this can never be.
> 
> So let her ever stride the land   
>  Amid the cinerarias   
>  and termite mounds, and apple trees,   
>  their caterpillars dropping down   
>  on fertile soil filled with gems   
>  and verdant grass, while laden clouds   
>  and slender rainbows cut the air.

  


I realized that I was gripping the loveseat’s arm. Hooves clomped the floor and I added my own applause. Peach returned and sat next to me contentedly.

“When was Pinfeather writing?” asked Waterjack. “Eight hundred years ago?”

“Closer to nine hundred,” said Aglet. “That one was from her time in the Unicorn Range.”

“Wow,” I said, and when the company faced me, I went on. “It’s just, if I read a poem written nine hundred years ago in English, I wouldn’t be able to understand it. The language changed that much. But it seems like Equestrian hasn’t changed at all.”

“We have traditions,” said Aglet proudly, “and we have standards. Having rulers who live thousands of years probably helps.”

“That’s an interesting point!” I replied.

She and Crupper thanked Iggles for her hospitality, gave Peach a tight hug apiece, and excused themselves. The cousins and cartwrights did likewise, leaving just me and Peach, Peach’s sister, Iggles and Velvetica. I wondered whether we were overstaying our welcome, but Iggles settled down on the rug in the middle of the library and sighed happily.

“I love throwing parties like this. It’s the main reason I wanted a house this size,” she said.

“It was great,” said Peach. “I think Mom and Dad don’t hate Pepper now.”

“Well, isn’t that a heartwarming sentiment. And all that work to waste, since you won’t even be marrying him.”

I felt my heart speed up. “It’s not wasted,” I said. “I’m hoping to know Peach for a long time.”

Iggles smiled brightly. “I’m glad! In that case, I’m delighted you came, Mr. Earthling. I hope you’re comfortable here? I’d put a fire on, but it’s the middle of summer.”

“Oh, I’m very comfortable, thank you.”

Velvetica leaned in. “Iggy likes it when people like her,” she explained. “She’s already played host for a Canterlot aristocrat and a griffon dignitary. Now she gets to add a human being to her collection!”

I wasn’t quite as comfortable anymore, but I smiled brightly. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re really good at smoothing things over.”

Iggles craned her head up oddly, but then beamed. “Well, excellent! I should hope so. I like to tell people that as I’ve gotten older, my mind’s gotten only more open. You think that’s fair, Candle?”

“I think it’s more than fair. I hope I get more like you as I grow up.”

“Really?” The aunt’s ears quivered, taut. “Oh, pish-tosh. You’ll grow up to be your own self, just like everyone does. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You’re totally open-minded and I think I learned it from you,” said Peach.

Iggles peered curiously at Peach. “You probably did. Isn’t that funny?” She turned to examine me, more carefully than before. “So this is what it looks like to have something realer than real.”

“Realer than real?” asked Velvetica.

“Well, isn’t he? We’re real, and when we make things up, they’re fictions, not real compared to us. And if some silly foal draws a comic about someone telling a story, then the things in that story are even less real. Am I right?”

Peach sat at attention. “I think you’re right!”

“Well, then, it only follows if someone makes _us_ up, then they’re realer than we are. Realer than real.”

“But we’re not like things inside Pepper’s imagination! We’re just as real as he is. He can touch us and everything!”

“Right.” Iggles was thoughtful. “But in the way he’s put together, he’s more real, isn’t he? What do you say, Pepper? Are you more realistically made than us?”

Well, that was a tough question. “I don’t know. I guess if someone discovered a new creature on Earth, they’d never guess it’d be anything like you. Ponies break most of the molds.”

“And a lot of the rules, I’ll bet.”

“Well, yeah. The way you move… it’s almost like the way we wish we could move. It seems like you have better control of your bodies than we do.”

Iggles squinted. “Really? I haven’t seen you fall down yet.”

“Well… I’m not saying humans are clumsy, and I guess ponies are sometimes clumsy too… but the way you brought out that tray of hors d’oeuvres earlier. You just threw it on the table and all the hors d’oeuvres bounced against the edge and lined up neatly. It’d take lots of training for a human to do that.”

She looked amazed. “Honestly, I’ve got to say I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Ponies just do things cool without even trying. Sometimes you trip over your own hooves, but even that’s entertaining.”

I looked at Peach and found her frowning, and wondered if I’d said too much.

Iggles sat down on the rug and thought a while. Eventually she raised her head. “Tell me this, if you would. In your opinion, is there a fundamental difference between ponies and humans?”

“Oh, I like that,” said Velvetica.

I had to ponder it. “I’m not sure there is. I can see a lot of differences, but nothing really fundamental. It’s all on a scale. I mean, I could say that it seems like ponies were made for a purpose. But it seems that way about humans too, at least at first. All our body parts that work together, our cultures that keep themselves going, our minds that let us make choices about our own lives…”

“What about destiny?” asked Peach. “Didn’t we decide it seemed like you don’t have destinies, and we do?”

“I think even that might be on a scale,” I said. “I think humans might have destinies of our own, or maybe our whole species has one big destiny. It’s just that with ponies, you can see it clearer.”

Everyone was silent. “Wow,” said Candle Seed eventually.

“Destiny on a sliding scale,” said Iggles. “I like that. I’ve gotta mull that over. Food for thought.” She stood up.

“It was great to see you again,” said Peach. “I should probably take Pepper home now. It’s been a long day.”

It had been one of the biggest days of my life, in fact. I was plenty ready for bed, so I shook hooves with everyone and muttered my thanks. Peach led me out the door, but we paused to look back.

“Don’t be a stranger!” called Aunt Iggles.

Peach thrust her head out. “If they start letting humans into Equestria for real, I’ll make sure Pepper visits all the time!”

“That-a-girl,” said Iggles.

Peach led me through the dark streets with a lot more energy than I had left. I had trouble keeping track of our direction or noticing where the ground beneath me switched from soil to gravel or from gravel to grass.

Before I’d thought to wonder how much farther it would be, we reached a simple, rectangular one-story dwelling with a broken wagon in front. Peach rummaged around magically under the wagon and found a big brass key. She unlocked the door and I stumbled inside.

“Welcome to my house, Pepper!”

We didn’t bother turning on the lights. The gibbous moon shining through a window was enough for me to get a feel for the place. It was small, but there was a lot of bare floor. Peach didn’t own much furniture that wasn’t for storage, much like in her apartment before I’d moved in.

I thought of asking whether she’d thought of renting it out while she was away, but then realized that in a town like this, space was abundant, and she wouldn’t get much.

“I don’t have any food. Sorry. I hope you’re still full from the party.”

“I’m fine. I kind of want to just go to sleep.”

“Okay. Tell you what. I’m gonna brush my teeth and figure out some stuff I want to take back with me. You can look around, and if you find my bed before I’m ready to sleep, you can sleep in it.”

It was a fair deal, and it motivated me to fumble around and discover what Peach’s life had been like without the starkness of light. I found a little bookcase without too many books—somehow they seemed well loved. I found an empty ant farm that I resolved to ask Peach about. I found a little beginner’s electronics kit on a relatively high shelf full of tilting papers.

Then I found Peach’s bedroom and, hesitantly, looked in her closet. It was a total mess. But the clothes in there all seemed adorable, because I knew they all represented some way Peach liked to see herself. A pair (or was it a set?) of work overalls. A flouncy white skirt with peaches on it. A hard hat with a face shield (and a hole for a horn). A big cashmere long-sleeved shirt. A set of shiny brown boots. An electric blue blazer.

Peach entered the room. I walked over and set my hand gently on the bed.

“Aww, you found it! Okay, you get to sleep in the bed. I’ll go slide the floor cushions into a bed for me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed? Don’t you want to sleep in a familiar place after so long away?”

“Well yeah, but you’re my guest. Besides, if I lie down in my bed, I might not want to get up again.”

I was tempted to offer to let us sleep together, but right now, it didn’t seem like a good idea. “How do you think it went? This afternoon, and tonight?”

“It went great. Well, good. A lot of the folks like you, and I think just being around you made the rest less afraid, even if they are still kinda standoffish.”

“Is it really just fear? Or could it be something more?”

“I think it’s that’s they’re uncomfortable being around things from a ‘higher’ reality. It’s partly fear and part just weirdness.”

“Earth is higher than Equestria?”

“In the sense of, like, understanding how things fit together, I think so. Think of it this way—we could be doing experiments about magic on Earth, but instead we have our scientists doing what humans tell us to do in Long Hedge, testing antimatter.”

“I think I’ve read about magic experiments being done.”

“Yeah, but I think it’s human scientists in charge there, too. You guys are just better thinkers than we are.” She sat down glumly. “Probably ‘cause you made us simple.”

“But you’re not simple,” I argued. “I saw that over and over today. The way your family and friends reacted to me… it was complicated and there were layers.”

“Well, I sure feel simple sometimes,” she persisted.

“You weren’t simple while reading that poem. You did a great job. And it was great seeing where you used to do all those things on the fairground. You aren’t simple, Peach! And neither are other ponies. You’re just not so advanced at science, is all. Because you have magic and you don’t have to be.”

“Maybe.” She lay down on the floor.

“I thought you were going to sleep in the other room.”

“I’m busy moping!”

“You’re being anti-existential again.”

She got up abruptly. “Well, it’s the fact you made us for kids. We’re childish! It’s not just science. You’re better at solving problems than we are. That’s why I put you in charge of my money.”

“Are you kidding? Ponies are solving problems all the time. That’s like, what every episode of the show used to be.”

“Because it was a show. And in shows you solve problems. But sometimes the problems should’ve been solved a lot faster!”

“So you think that’s why not everyone around here likes humans? They resent stuff like that?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I think we’re just… not sure what it says about us, when people like you show up.”

I set my hand on her mane. “We’re all on the same scale,” I reminded her.

“Even so,” she said.

I fuzzled her and went to lie down. “I noticed there weren’t any earth ponies at your aunt’s place.”

“No, we don’t hang out with earth ponies.”

“I hardly even saw any in town at all. I think I saw a couple pulling a vegetable cart through the mud, and there was one guy whose coat was all dirty, but he was in a hurry.”

“We have them here. But they just do the tough work and keep to themselves, usually.”

“Are you okay with them doing all the tough work?”

Peach shrugged helplessly. “It’s not like I could change it. That’s just how it works out.”

“Not even the cartwrights were earth ponies. I would’ve thought that would be a good job for them. Is even building carts too good a job for an earth pony in Witherton?”

“I guess. They plow and harvest and clean stuff up. It’s what they’re good at. I’m not saying it’s not different in other places, but that’s how it is here.”

I shifted some pillows beneath my head. “I guess that’s why you didn’t want to tell your folks about George.”

She was silent a while.

“Your aunt’s pretty neat, though.”

Peach smiled. “Yeah. She’d probably find George really interesting. You know, while the spell was on me, I could barely think about him. Now I’ve been thinking about him a lot.”

I swallowed. “Are you thinking of getting back together with him?”

“Not exactly.” She paused. “I’m wondering how it would have gone if I’d brought him here instead of you. Playing it out in my head.”

“I like how you do that kind of thing.”

“Mm.”

I took off my clothes and slipped into the old blankets. It was pretty comfy for a place that hadn’t been slept in for months.

Peach wasn’t ready for bed, though. “I feel kind of ashamed.”

“Why?”

“’Cause of what we’re like here. We’re not really quick to accept something that’s strange and different.”

“It is kind of ironic, really,” I said to the ceiling. “We humans invited ponies into our lives really quickly, and you’re taking a long time to welcome us into yours. But you’re the ones who’re all about friendship and kindness. And we’re the ones always getting into wars.”

She thought for a while. “I guess there’s a certain kind of person who likes taking risks. Not like gambling risks, where you know everything that can happen. But real risks. Adventures into the… the unknown.” Her voice caught.

“People like you?”

I looked over. She was staring into the distance. “Yeah. My sister’s afraid to even leave Witherton, but in so many ways we’re alike. I don’t feel super brave. But somehow I’m willing to take all kinds of risks she isn’t.”

“And you don’t know why?”

“No. Not really.” She thought for a while. “I guess maybe it’s the way my imagination works,” she said at last. “Most people hear about something unknown and they imagine all kinds of terrible things that can happen, and only a few good things. I hear about it and I imagine mostly great things, with only a few terrible things mixed in.”

“I like that about you,” I said.

“Yeah. Me too,” she said after a while.

“Your sister seems nice,” I remarked.

“She is. She’s really nice.”

“And her name doesn’t make any more sense than yours does,” I ribbed.

“Our parents have such terrible names that they wanted to make ours beautiful. We both got something bright and something botanical.”

“My father left my mom when I was nineteen,” I said. “I was a freshman in college. I heard about it from phone calls and texts.”

“That sounds weird,” said Peach.

“It was.”

“I don’t think my dad would ever leave my mom. Or the other way round. I just… don’t think they could see any other future, even if it was bad.”

“But they love each other, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Peach quietly. “Yeah, they love each other.”

The silence went on a long time then, until it was too late to resuscitate the conversation and Peach had to pack it in. “Well. Goodnight. See you in the morning.” She slipped off to her makeshift floor bed.

I lay there wondering when my father had stopped loving my mother, and how exactly he’d known.  
  


* * *

  
Morning was a pleasure. It was a chore, too, getting washed in the pump-operated shower out back, drying off and getting dressed. But it was a time of discovery. I was seeing Peach in the morning for the first time in a while without a magical influence impairing my judgment, and I got to see her house in the light, along with everything in it. There was no breakfast—for that, we had to go to Aglet and Crupper’s place.

The day was bright and the ground was dry, making walking easier. Plenty of ponies were out and about, and I got plenty of stares and a few questions. Peach and I were both ready for them, though. The night before had fortified us.

Peach’s mother stood in the doorway, having answered Peach’s knock. “You came back.” They touched, cheek to cheek. Aglet backed away and flipped her head toward the next room. “Come on in. Both of you.”

I could smell something grainy and wholesome as soon as I entered. It was a conservatively appointed house, but its spareness was different from the spareness of Peach’s house. It was neater, for one thing, with long pieces of wood fixed along the hallways and walls for decoration, and a fine polished mantle with keepsakes on it, and a horseshoe hung over the dining room entrance, and bucolic paintings here and there. I was struck again by the amazing parallels between cultures—if it weren’t for the oddly low chairs and the tufts of wild grass decorating the cabinets, this could have been an empty nester homestead anywhere in rural America.

They fed me waffles. I complimented them. Peach picked up a peach from the fruit bowl and eyed it hungrily. Her mother offered to slice it up for her, and with some reservation in her tone, asked whether I’d like some too.

Naturally, I did. How could I visit my ex-girlfriend’s home without tasting the namesake fruits she grew up with? And I was glad I did—the chunks I got on my waffles were delicious.

“Any notion of when you might visit us next?” asked Aglet.

“I was thinking about that,” Peach said, her mouth not quite empty. “And I don’t know. I might get super lonely and come back in a few weeks. Or I might wait another couple months.”

“I wouldn’t mind one bit if you came back for good,” said her father. “The town’s richer with you here.”

Peach frowned. “Yeah. Maybe if the blog turns sour.”

I didn’t like seeing her pessimistic. “I think you’ve got what it takes to keep it going. If your readers start getting bored, you’ll find some new angle to explore.”

“Like moving to another city?” she asked. It sounded sort of accusing, so I ate a bite of my breakfast instead of answering.

Crupper ignored our interaction. “Want to see my newest spell before you leave?” he asked Peach.

“Oh, your father’s got a new spell and he’s been looking for ponies to show it to,” chided her mother. “You should watch.”

So we finished up breakfast and went into the little study-library, so low I had to stoop while I was in there. It was full of books and featured a big wooden rack, painted white, made of hexagonal compartments that mostly contained scrolls. The rest of us sat on cushions against the wall while Crupper pulled out one of the larger scrolls from an upper compartment. He went to a wall cabinet, opened it telekinetically, and took out some dried herbs and beans and a little stone bowl.

“What’re we in for?” asked Peach enthusiastically.

“Wait and see,” said Aglet, putting her forehoof on Peach’s shoulder.

Crupper took a metal and leather object sitting on a bookcase and magically put it on himself. It was a cart harness. He slung its back loop carefully over the back of a flimsy-looking chair. The chair tipped a little under the weight, nearly falling over.

The stallion then unfurled his scroll and stared at it intensely. He raised the beans over the bowl and crumbled them with magic; then he added the herbs and stirred briskly. He raised the bowl before him, muttered a few soundless words, and sent a tan spurt of magic into the bowl. A flag of tan fire quietly surged up from the bowl, nearly hitting the ceiling.

“That was pretty good,” I mumbled.

Aglet gave me an amused look. “Oh,” she laughed. “That’s just the invocation.”

Crupper winked at Peach and started forward. I fully expected the chair to fall over, but it didn’t. In fact, the harness stretched as if it were made of rubber. Even rubber would have had more than enough tension to pull the thing over. But it didn’t. Crupper walked the length of the room and the harness cords got long and thin, stretching like bubble gum instead of pulling over the chair.

He stamped his hoof suddenly and there was a spark of magic. Then he yanked a haunch forward and the slim little strip pulled the chair over, kaplunk.

Peach stood up and clomped the floor, twice with each forehoof. “That was a funny one! I like it.”

“Yeah, not a lot of practical use there, most likely. But I like it, too,” said the stallion. “They call it Earwig’s Tensile Inhibitor. Might be able to work something out between it and the lumber stacking spell.”

“Yep, you should probably put it in the next spot over,” agreed Peach.

I ventured a question. “Do you use magic much in your work, sir?”

He scoffed in embarrassment at me. “Only here and there. Mainly, I just dabble.”

“I think it’s good to be able to do things,” said Aglet.

Crupper nodded and grunted in acknowledgment.

“Everyone should dabble with something,” said Peach.  
  


* * *

  
On our way to the train station, I asked Peach what her parents’ magical talents were.

“They don’t talk about it much, since they pretty much only use them when they’re working. Mom makes cords and laces. Dad makes harnesses and saddles.”

I considered this. “Is that why you were so eager to get rigged up like a Terran pony at that ranch?”

Peach looked sheepish. “It might’ve had something to do with it. I knew my dad’s work, and I was curious how they did it in your place. But mainly, I just wanted to know what it’s like to be a Terran pony! Because you’ve gotta know where you come from.”

“I wonder if there are things we should be learning from you, if you have all this stuff you can learn from us.”

Peach nodded. “I bet there totally is. If I were in your position, I’d be trying to learn about FiMland too.”

“What would you especially be trying to learn?”

“I’d probably want to know what’s outside Equestria. Past the edges of the map. If we ponies are what’s in your imagination, then what’s the rest of it? Probably the secret parts of your souls.”

I walked, and Peach’s words lent a thrilling excitement to what I could only see through the corners of my eyes. “That sounds like the sort of thing George would want to do. Explore the missing parts of the map and write about them.”

She smiled, but there was pain in it. “Maybe now you can see why I like him so much.”

“I hope he forgives you,” I offered.

“He will. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t moved on.”

The wind seemed almost musical before it shaped itself into a whistling melody, and then into distant words.

_…The world’s ponies may just pass away_   
_Simply float away_   
_Until they’re gone_   
_But we can keep our memories of all of them_   
_And we’ll treasure them_   
_Forever on…_

_…They may look at us and not choose to care_   
_They may not see us there_   
_Amid the crowds_   
_But they can’t take away the cares we have_   
_Because we’ll always have_   
_The shapes in clouds…_

The angelfood white form of Clear Airway emerged from a low cloud and swirled down toward us, singing. Peach rose onto her hind legs and sang in response:

_Because we’ll always have…_   
_Clouds!_

They laughed a laugh so carefree I couldn’t tell which of them started it. Clear Airway spun tightly around Peach and then whirled her into a hug that left her hind legs kicking. Then she let go, and Peach fell easily to her hooves.

“You can’t get away that easy!” teased the pegasus, still circling above us.

“Fine,” retorted Peach, sitting back. “What do I have to do?”

“You have to say goodbye!”

Peach’s ears went up. “That’s totally easy!”

“Well, it’s a little harder than not saying it!”

Peach smiled. “That’s a point! Well, goodbye, Airway! There. Now I’ve risen to your challenge!”

The pegasus lowered her circles until she landed. “You always were a challenge riser-to.”

“I know, “ said Peach.

“Are you ready for your next challenge?”

“I am!” Peach declared.

“You have to write to me.”

“Oh. I can do that!”

“And you have to let me know the next time you’re coming home.”

“I’ll try and do that! Unless it’s an emergency like this time.”

“I could have gone with you to see Cadance and roughed her up a little if she needed it. You know that, right?”

Peach guffawed. “That’s horrible!”

“Yeah, but I’d still do it for you.”

Peach went and gave her friend a real, hooves-on-solid-ground hug. “You’re the best friend.”

A white leg rose from the hug and pointed at me. “What about that guy over there?”

“He’s the best friend too,” Peach said. “Ron! If I’m writing to Airway from Earth, you have to write to me from Trenton. It’s the least you can do.”

“I know. I will. But maybe, as my last act as your money manager, I’ll help you get a phone before I go. That way I can call you!”

Peach lit up and grinned. “You’re the smartest.” She turned back to the pegasus she was hugging and flicked her tail back and forth. “I want you to see Earth someday. It’s pretty great.”

“Then I’ll come and see it! I’ll get some time off. But you have to write first!”

“I will. And hey, can you help my family get subscribed to my blog? And if they won’t do that, could you at least print out a scroll of it and bring it here sometimes? I want them to know what I’m up to and where my head is.”

Clear Airway stood back and saluted with a wing. “Can do!”

“Thanks. I guess we’ll head on to the train then.”

“Hey Ron!” Clear Airway faced me. “If I were you, I wouldn’t leave this girl. You may think you know her all the way, but she’s always got more secrets.”

My feelings swam. “I know. I wish I knew them all.”

“You can’t know _all_ my secrets!” objected Peach, scandalized. “ _I_ don’t even know all of them.”

“Well… then I wish I knew sixty percent of them.”

“Well that’s more reasonable,” said Peach.

“Nice meeting you!” called Clear Airway. “Until next time, Peach!” She raised her wings and caught the wind as easily as if she were a sheet of paper.

“Bye!” yelled Peach. We waved her off.

The sun was bright by then and the morning was alive. We had an hour to catch our train and could afford to amble, but we kept a steady, healthy pace.

“Are we still going to see each other, after you move away?” Peach asked. “We can still visit, right?”

“Right. It’s not that far. We’ll get together sometimes.”

“My place or yours?”

“Maybe both. Depends if we can find a way to get around. It’s hard when neither of us has a car. But there are options.”

We walked for a while. “Do you think your family would like meeting me?” Peach asked suddenly.

I imagined it happening. Her first encounters with Noam, my sister and her boyfriend, my mother. Instead of making me uncomfortable, as it probably would have a couple of weeks ago, the thought made me grin.

“You know, I think it would be only fair,” I told her.

“Just so long as we keep things awkward,” she joked. “If we stop being awkward before I meet them, then it won’t really be fair.”

I laughed aloud and ran my fingers through her mane. Could it be a little awkwardness was a good thing? “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” I said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> At first, I was going to skip swiftly past Ron's introduction to Peach's family, summarizing only the broad strokes of how it went. But somehow, the characters seemed to demand more attention than that.
> 
> A crupper is the part of a saddle that goes around a horse's tail and keeps it from sliding too far forward. The names Terret and Martingale are also related to horse tack. I picked the names Wheel Nave and Waterjack from a labeled diagram of a gypsy wagon. Aglet and Iglet are real words, too. :ajsmug:
> 
> Yes, Clear Airway swears on food. This may explain why Peach thinks ‘Crepes’ is an expletive. :pinkiegasp:
> 
> Even Even More Poems About Rocks is Maud’s fourth compilation. You can probably guess what the first three were called.
> 
> "The First Meadow" is meant to evoke the medieval poetic tradition, but is also inspired to some extent by the Serendipity line of children's books by Stephen Cosgrove, which have a wonderfully vibrant and bucolic sense of place.
> 
> As usual, if you make the 500th comment, you can include a line for me to include in the following chapter.
> 
> Would you rather meet a pony's family, or introduce one to your own? What do you think would go interestingly well or poorly?


	24. Friends

HOME AT LAST. Wow.

It was half past ten. No charioteers for the return trip had meant we’d had to make our own way from the Manehattan train station to the portal terminal, and we’d given up two more hours to track down Saddle Row and visit a few famous shops. Coco Pommel hadn’t been at Rarity For You, but it had still been quite an experience, what with a pair of raccoons carefully fitting me for loafers it turned out I couldn’t afford. (No, they weren’t made for humans—Rarity’s boutique actually stocked casual shoes for adolescent dragons. Peach had found the whole thing very amusing. “See, what’d I tell you? You can get anything in Manehattan.”)

Coming back through customs and security had eaten up another hour and a half, and then there’d been the subway ride back to Elizabeth and the bus back home. Entering apartment 412 was kind of surreal. Ever since I’d stepped back through the portal to Earth, a small voice in my head had been telling me that real life was a nightmare. Climbing three sets of stairs in the dark of night to reach a crowded urban apartment, exhausted… could this really be my life? Where was the bounce of Equestria? The eternal undercurrent of cheer? The omnipresent sense that things would work out for the best?

Then again, I wasn’t alone. I was with a pony who called the same place home I did, a unicorn who collapsed on the futon mattress even as I fell on the sofa. I’d left the whimsical fairyland behind, but somehow this peach-colored denizen of that place was still with me, and we knew each other so well that we didn’t need any words as we rested, happy to be home. How could _that_ be my life?

But I did speak eventually. “It feels weird to be home.”

“Tell me about it,” said Peach.

I turned on a lamp. She made tea with ginger. I had some.

“You ‘re gonna call home in the morning?” she asked.

“Yeah. Let ‘em know I’m coming back, see if mom can line up that place she was talking about.”

There was a pause filled with only the slurping of tea. “Can’t help but feel kind of like an idiot for coming back here,” said Peach.

“What? Why’s that?”

She sighed a heartbreaking slow sigh. “Well, it kind of feels like my adventure’s done. I came here thinking it’d be exciting, like some big, scary thing would happen to me. But I was ready for it, or I tried to be. And… now it feels like it’s happened. I fell in love, that’s what happened. And it was big, and there was a scary part too, but now it’s done. I feel like I’m going down again for the first time in… in months. Like the future is less exciting, not more.”

I imagined life as a big roller coaster with big hills and rocky parts and flat parts. I didn’t know what part of my own coaster I was on. I really didn’t. It was like I was headed into a big mountain tunnel, and I didn’t know which way it would go. But the idea that Peach was past her biggest hill… filled me with sadness and shame. I wanted to cry for the sadness of it, but the shame didn’t let me. And I wasn’t even sure why I felt it.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Peach was silent as she futzed in the kitchenette.

“Are you working tomorrow?” she asked.

“No. I only had three days this week and I missed today and yesterday.” This didn’t help with my shame.

“Nn-kay. Maybe get started packing your stuff up,” she suggested. “The small stuff you don’t use so much.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

She came over and joined me on the sofa. “So who gets the mattress tonight? Are we going to switch off?”

I reflected. If being in love with a pony was strange, this was stranger. Cold practicalities. “Maybe we can still share it. We can just each keep to our own side.”

“Kay, but I’m a sleep roller,” Peach said. “Don’t get angry if I roll onto you.”

“I won’t.”

We finished our tea and turned out the light.  
  


* * *

  
In the morning, Peach had rolled out of bed on the opposite side. I watched her quietly snoring on the floor for a while before I slipped a pillow under her head.

I was making breakfast by the time her alarm clock rang.

“Who! Whoa. What. Whazzit?” She tumbled from side to side.

“Morning,” I said, midway through frying a piece of French toast. “Did you sleep okay?”

She looked at me like I was the last thing she expected to see. “I had a bad dream.”

“That’s too bad. You remember what it was?”

She bunched up her mouth and thought. “I think we were married,” she said quietly.

My heart pumped. “That was your bad dream?”

“That wasn’t the bad part!”

“Well, what was it, then?”

She tried to think. “I can’t remember.”

This wasn’t exactly cheering, but what did it matter? I wasn’t going to be marrying Peach—she could have nightmares about it if she wanted, I supposed. “What’re you going to tell folks at work?”

Her ears rose cautiously. “About where I’ve been? I’ll tell the truth, if they ask.”

“You’re not just gonna say you’ve been sick?”

She gave me a look. “I hardly ever lie. I lied about not wanting to be with you, and I regretted it. Not gonna lie about this.”

“I don’t think I can tell my coworkers I went to Equestria,” I admitted. “I’m gonna stick with being sick.”

Peach snorted at me and looked down. I felt my shame rising.

“You want some French toast?”

“Yeah I want some toast,” she replied.  
  


* * *

  
I couldn’t stay in the apartment after she was gone. It had too much to do with her. So I went up the block to a vacant lot overgrown with tall grass and made my calls from there.

Mom was kind of quietly glad I was coming back, like it was overdue but a little disappointing just the same. My sister didn’t seem to care much one way or another, but promised that we’d see each other more. Noam, though, asked me a bunch of questions about my ponyfriend. I told him we’d had a fling but it hadn’t worked out, that I couldn’t really see myself with her and regretted giving up my apartment. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I’d been to Equestria.

As I emerged from the tall grass and walked up the street, I wondered whether I’d ever tell anyone about the trip. If I didn’t, would it start to seem like it hadn’t really happened? Like it was just a dream?

Then I remembered—someone did know. I’d made a panicked phone call to Laurie just before leaving with Opli Dexia and Second Sight. It was actually kind of a relief to know that I _couldn’t_ keep it secret.

Still, it took me a while to work up the nerve to call her.

“I’m so glad to hear from you, Ron. I’ve been freaking out a little since you called. Did everything go okay? Are you safe?”

“I’m okay. Peach is too. You were actually worried about me? What were you afraid was going to happen to me in Equestria?”

“Christ, could be anything. They could have turned you into a pony, or taken away all your bad feelings, or cast some sort of spell.”

“I was actually there to get a spell fixed.” Without dragging out the details, I told Laurie what had happened.

She was silent for a lot of it. “That’s amazing. That’s fucking crazy.”

“I know,” I said, ambling past a warehouse loading dock.

“It sounds like Peach’s family treated you kind of like Jack treated Peach.”

I considered that, smirking. “Kind of.”

“I don’t know if you were really unlucky or really lucky. But I think you were really lucky, Ron. I wish I could have gone.”

“I wish you could have too. Oh, but I did take your advice and try some local produce.” I described what I’d eaten, especially the kumquats and peaches.

“They were really good, huh?”

“They had something to them I never really tasted before.”

“Did you ever have a really fresh peach before? I’m wondering how they stack up to fresh-off-the-tree fruit here on Earth.”

I considered. “I don’t think I have, really.”

“You know, it’s July now. You should take Peach to an orchard, like you were going to.” She hesitated. “If she still wants to go places with you, that is.”

“Yeah. You’re right, I should. Maybe there’s time before…” I swallowed. “So the other thing, Laurie, is that I’ve decided it’s finally time to leave town.”

Well, that opened up an awkward can of worms.

Laurie said she’d miss me being around. The fact was, I didn’t see her that often anyway, and it wasn’t looking like I was going to get my hours back at the garden store come winter. (Having suddenly called in sick for two days wasn’t going to help.) I told her that the whole thing with Peach wasn’t driving me away, but it didn’t make sense to stay here.

She understood. We agreed to get together one last time before I left, but I didn’t know when that would be.

I was blocks away from home by that time. I wandered my neighborhood feeling conflicted in half a dozen ways, like my guts were hooked up to a net pulling away in all directions. Finally, on impulse, I caught the 116 to Manhattan.

Why was I going? Did I really want to retread my path from last night? To see New Alliances Terminal again? Strangely, it wasn’t until I’d almost reached the island that I realized: it was Thursday. I could drop in on a lunchtime meet-up at Turtlewood Coffee.

It crossed my mind that it might be rude to show up for the pony meet-up without a pony companion. But what did I have to lose? I could just sit and listen if I wanted to. I’d come to realize it wasn’t ponies in general I wanted to escape—it was Peach Spark. Ponies were great, and in some way it felt like I still needed them. I’d realized I was going to have to wean myself off equine company, and this might be my last chance before leaving town.

I walked for miles through gleaming, prime commercial districts. My eyes lazily took in things for sale, but I wasn’t even thinking about shopping. I tried to contemplate what sort of job I might look for back in Trenton, and whether the job search there might be any easier than it was here.

Turtlewood Coffee appeared. I swallowed back an urge to walk away. Going in was tougher than I’d expected. But I’d come all that way, and I kept telling myself, what do I have to lose? If the ponies aren’t glad to see me, I probably won’t ever see them again anyway.

I didn’t recognize the barrista. There weren’t any ponies in the main area, but I could detect their appealing scent around the corner. It was coming up on noon. I ordered a coffee and sat nervously, trying to read the _Times_ on my phone but unable to focus. Once half the coffee was gone, I sighed, got up, and walked around the corner to the meet-up.

“…may represent some of our distant hopes and dreams, but I don’t think it belongs in our _platform_ ,” a tan stallion with curly hair was saying. The first thing I noticed about the group was that it wasn’t all ponies: a handful of humans were there too. I recognized Meg Dougherty in the back of the small crowd… and that stubbled fat man at the table was Uncle Clyde, one of the organizers of our trip to Murkowski Ranch down the shore.

“If you believe in something,” insisted a gruff red stallion with matted hair, who had to clear his throat and start over. “If you believe in something, you make it _clear_ that’s your belief. That’s my experience. Do that, or someone gets unpleasantly surprised down the road, and you’ve got a schism.” It was Red Rover, Uncle Clyde’s ally.

The second thing I noticed about the group was its tense energy. Everyone was gathered around the table in the niche, pressed in close, with others standing and watching. There were papers on the table with scribbled notes. I saw the aquatic greens of Kellydell and Seaswell in the midst of things… and there was George Harrison, standing next to the light blue earth mare with the tumbling domino cutie mark I remembered playing ponies with. Skelter, that was her name. They were haunch to haunch, clearly here together.

The tan stallion shook his curls. “If we say we’re in favor of Night Light, the media _bashes_ us,” he countered. “And it gets the royalty in hot water, too. The Night Light Doctrine isn’t supposed to be real!”

“It shouldn’t be anyone’s credo,” said Uncle Clyde, commanding the floor with his unpolished, greasy voice. “But it should be on the table. We’re talking long-term here, aren’t we? We can’t be afraid of long-term visions!”

“But people are afraid of the Night Light Doctrine!” said Kellydell, pushing forward. “At the least, we shouldn’t refer to it that way.”

“It’s true,” said Red Rover. “You can usually be honest without having to be incendiary.”

A garble of voices followed that. That’s when a face happened to glance my way and a pair of eyebrows went up. “Now there’s someone who ought to be with us,” said George Harrison. “Don’t be standoffish, Sergeant. It’s good to see your face.”

I wasn’t sure I could say the same about him, but it was definitely nice to be welcomed. “Hi,” I said, stepping forward.

A bunch of eyes were turning my way. “I know this guy,” said Kellydell. “He lives with Peach Spark. At least he used to—how did things go with the royal mage?”

I hadn’t really banked on debriefing in front of a crowd, but several of them were folks I wanted to tell. So I sat down at the table I’d played ponies at three weeks earlier and quietly told Kellydell about my trip to Equestria—there just happened to be twenty other people listening in. I tried to stay focused on Kellydell and Seaswell, with a glance at George now and then, but I couldn’t help but notice how raptly the rest of the crowd was listening. They’d certainly put their own discussion, whatever it was, on hold.

“Now there’s something for our literature,” Red Rover interrupted when I got to the part in which Cadance carefully undid the magic she’d done. “Pony leaders actually _care_ about fixing their mistakes.” Someone with paper diligently scribbled this down.

“You think it was a mistake?” said Uncle Clyde. “Sure it wasn’t all a big plan?”

“You never know. But I was there at that mixer, remember? I actually hobnobbed with the minotaur guy, Mighty Tongue Max. _Easy_ to believe he could get even a princess aggravated. Got the sense they chose their ambassador by _contest_.”

“Did you see Cadance enchant Pepper?” asked Skelter.

“I saw her casting spells at the troublemakers, but I don’t remember that particular spell. Still. Everyone makes mistakes.” Red Rover turned to the pony with the pen in her mouth. “Equestrian leaders care more about making things right than saving their image. Write that down.”

“That’s a good one,” said the curly-haired tan stallion.

“Can I pause to ask what all this is about?” I said.

“Absolutely!” said Kellydell. “This is a formative meeting for the Friends of Equestria society.”

“Just ‘Friends of Equestria,’” said a dark gray stallion.

“Who are the Friends of Equestria?”

Uncle Clyde spoke up. “Those of us who happen to think the ponies have it about right. That we should be learning from them, and supporting them. That we should take our alliance seriously.”

I looked at the other human faces—a couple of men, a couple women, ranging from their twenties to forties. They looked serious. The young black woman raised her eyebrows at me.

A man in an unbuttoned business suit spoke. “The idea is that it’s a society for humans, but the Turtlewood crowd is helping us get started.”

“I still don’t think it needs to be humans only,” said Skelter. “We don’t live in Equestria anymore, but we can still care about being its friend, can’t we?”

This set off a murmured debate, but Kellydell zipped her hoof dramatically through the air. “Zipt! I want to hear the rest of Pepper’s story.”

This was exciting. I found I wanted to hear more about what they were doing here, but I couldn’t stop my story in the middle. So I described the process of being treated by the pink princess, and then having breakfast with her. I moved more quickly through the day I’d spent in Peach’s home town, figuring the crowd didn’t care as much about that, but found that they were actually paying just as much attention, if not more.

“Did you actually see them making carts?” asked Meg—the first thing she’d said to me since ‘Sorry, Ron.’

“No,” I replied, “but I saw Peach’s dad show off a new magic trick involving a harness…”  
  


* * *

  
By the time I finished talking, everyone’s attention was thoroughly focused on me. “Amazing story,” said one of the other men.

“How do you feel about Cadance now?” asked the young black woman.

I gathered my thoughts and smiled. “She’s _really_ charming. I actually feel like she’s beyond charming, somehow. It’s like you empathize with her instantly. I certainly don’t hold a grudge against her.”

“Sounds like you’re a shoo-in for our group, then.”

I licked my lip. “Well, what exactly do you believe in?”

It wasn’t easy to get a simple answer. I sat and sipped my coffee while the organization practiced describing who they were to me. It was messy—they didn’t completely agree on who they were yet, or what they were trying to accomplish, but I heard a lot of ambitious ideas. Using pony principles to guide our government… expanding trade… establishing programs to see whether, against the common wisdom, humans can do magic. They even got onto a tangent for a while about the Supreme Court ruling from last December that ponies can’t be prosecuted for not wearing clothes in public, and speculated about whether it might end up striking down indecent exposure laws. But the main thing they were working for, the core of it all, was opening Terran immigration to Equestria, which is why they’d cared so much about my experience.

“We have so much to offer,” said Kellydell. “How can we be in favor of shutting it all away?”

“Spoken like a true tour guide,” said the man in the business suit. “But that’s never going to be possible if we can’t get ponies to trust us.”

“I think I’m personally willing to do whatever it takes,” said Meg quietly. “And that includes talking to other people and convincing them to feel the same way.”

“But there are limits,” said a tall man with a creased face who looked like he was dressed for work at a diner. “We can’t just bend over backward and let Equestria tell us how to run our world. They’ll respect us more if we have principles we stand by.” He looked to the ponies as if for confirmation.

“I’d agree with that,” said Red Rover.

The gray stallion listed things off. “Peace, respect, a willingness to admit mistakes and work together to solve problems…”

“I don’t think humans need to be perfect,” said Seaswell. “We just need to know they’re safe.”

“No one is perfectly safe,” pointed out Uncle Clyde.

Seaswell looked down, abashed. “It’s just that… to us, it seems like humans have all these hidden tricks for taking over. We just need to know they won’t use them.”

“Hidden tricks?” asked the creased-face man. “Like what?”

Seaswell looked unsure, so his wife continued for him, gesturing to our surroundings. “Oh, he means things like business. Opening coffeeshops everywhere, or spreading television, making things out of plastic, that kind of thing. Anything to win us over.”

“And take all our money,” added Skelter.

The man in the suit replied. “But if we’d just be bringing things that ponies want, and are willing to pay for… where’s the danger?”

“I know it sounds good on paper, but just imagine Equestria built up like New York,” said Uncle Clyde. “Or worse, polluted like Beijing, or sprawling with parking lots and strip malls and chain stores like some giant suburb of Earth.”

I shuddered. I wasn’t alone. “Right then,” said George. “Seems we’ve got a disconnect between principle and promise. If ponyfolk are fine with each and every transaction, how do things get to there from where we are?”

No one happened to have an answer for that, so I took the opportunity to interrupt. “I’m actually curious… what spurred all this? I had no idea there was a movement like this in the making.”

Several voices tried to answer me at once, but Red Rover was given the floor. “It’s been coming for a while. Really, ever since Clyde and me met, we’ve been talking about opening the borders. “ He waved a foreleg to encompass everyone. “We’ve been bringing in more bodies and minds on that, and finally got around to scheduling a meeting. Say, I remember where I know you from. You were on my ranch trip, weren’t you? You rode the Appaloosa.”

I smiled timidly. “Yeah. So… is Turtlewood your headquarters? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“We’re looking into getting a real headquarters, but I’d say a good part of the talk’s happened here. I don’t usually make it on Thursdays, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I nodded and looked at all the faces, most of which were paying attention. Some were murmuring to each other, starting up new conversations. “Is it possible I could join even if I’m not going to be living around here anymore?”

Red Rover stared, his hoof thunking to the floor. “Sure, kid. You can join the e-mail list. But what are you gonna move away for? You’ve got a better story than most—it’d be nice to have you around to tell it.”

The excitement I’d been feeling as the center of attention suddenly rose to my throat. Meg was watching me. George was watching me. Seaswell had his wing lifted in what seemed like tension.

I swallowed. My mind raced. I thought of studio apartments… the trip down the coast to see Terran ponies… Princess Cadance at Radio City…pony night at the Millennium… I flashed on excitedly following Peach through a Wal-Mart… explaining to her about the tooth fairy… helping her set up her blog… riding a paddleboat… watching the World Cup… giving a very needed hug… playing magnets… sharing a pineapple upside-down cake. I remembered George Harrison asking what my cutie mark would be, if I had one. I glanced at the assemblage and happened to find his eyes; it was like he was asking the question again, silently, right then. My hand went self-consciously to my hip.

_What would your mark be, if you had one?_

“I’m in,” I said. “I’ll… I’ll see about whether maybe I can stay in town.”

Kellydell laughed aloud, something I’d never heard her do before. She had an amazing laugh—high and smug and devil-may-care. “That’s all it takes?”

But her exclamation was lost in the cloud of encouragements and affirmations that followed it. “All right!” cried Skelter, pumping her leg. “That’s more like it,” said the man in the diner clothes. “That’s what I figured,” said the black lady.

Uncle Clyde passed a clipboard to me. “Glad to have you on board, Pepper. You can put your info down here. Now, folks, can we get back to hammering out the platform? This is _supposed_ to be a business meeting!”

They got back to it quickly enough, and just like that, my time in the sun was done. Regardless, I felt like I was glowing the whole time. I sat quietly for most of it, occasionally jumping into the conversation, and found myself wishing that Peach were there. Or at least that she had a phone so I could text her how I felt. When the official business was done, I answered more questions about my trip and our relationship. I told Clyde and Rover about the interspecies couple I’d met at the Millennium—maybe they’d want to join the Friends? No, I didn’t have their numbers, but maybe someone should work that crowd on pony night, pass out a few leaflets. Weirdly enough, a middle-aged blond woman even asked if I could help her set up her own blog the way I’d helped Peach, as if I were some sort of expert. And I listened to a dozen fascinating conversations.

Of _course_ this sort of thing had to be happening. It’d been happening ever since Justin Trudeau had given that first press conference and the world had exploded, ever since pictures of Celestia and Cadance on Parliament Hill had been released and the experts had said they _weren’t_ photoshopped. There’d been a panic at the time, a beautiful, charged panic, but I hadn’t been part of it. Now, almost two years later, the panic had faded to a steady boil, but it was still definitely hot. Two worlds had collided and there was still plenty to work out—there would be for decades to come, no doubt.

I spent two hours in the middle of that boil that Thursday, and it felt just right. I didn’t get a cutie mark that day, of course, but if I somehow had, it wouldn’t have come as a complete surprise.

I said as much to George Harrison while conversation continued to bubble around us. He lifted his apple-red eyebrows, impressed. “Is that so? And just what do you suppose it’d be?”

I blushed. “Not quite sure. Something to do with ponies.”

Beside him, Skelter grinned a brilliant, little-toothed grin. “No one has a pony for a cutie mark! It’s not allowed!”

I gave her a sly look. “Maybe humans would be allowed to?”

“Suppose it wouldn’t be completely off-kilter,” George said. “We ponyfolk don’t wear ourselves on our rumps because it’s taken for granted we’ll be dealing with other ponies. But for a human chap to work with ponies… well, that’s reasonably special.”

He said it in a way that make me feel warm. “Thanks, George.”

Skelter chuckled nervously. “Well, I’m hoping you don’t have to leave town. I thought you were a good villain for our game!”

“Well, it was fun.” I looked between them. “Are you two a couple now?” Honestly, she seemed way too young and silly for him, but maybe he had a type.

George gave a frank nod. “We’re making a go of it. Honestly, Sergeant? I’m in much the same boat you are.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, as you know, I’m a traveler by nature. Lately I’ve been a bit antsy, as though I’ve been in the Big Apple long enough. It’s the wanderlust, you know. It gets at you.”

“Oh… where are you thinking of going?”

He shrugged. “Anyplace that catches my fancy. Australia, maybe. South Africa. Tibet. Who knows, Sergeant? I don’t let myself think too long about anyplace, or I’m liable to up and go.”

“Is there some reason you can’t?”

He sighed and swished his sizable tail, encompassing the room. “There’s work to be done here. You feel it—I do too. I can’t pull up roots just yet.”

Skelter nuzzled him on the chin. “Maybe we could take a vacation, though! I’d love to go somewhere with you.”

“And we will, honeydew. Keep watching the bargain fares—we’ll go away for a week or so.” George faced me seriously. “Be honest with me, Ronald. Have you got someplace better to go?”

I shook my head. “I’m just scared. I can’t afford to live here anymore, and I gave up my lease…”

“Well, if it comes to it, you can lodge with me a while,” George offered. “It’s a tiny place, but every inch is decorated impeccably.”

I found myself laughing, then covered my mouth. “I guess you’re not mad at me, then?”

“Mad? Why, what would I be mad for? Not dropping me a line when you were snogging Peach? You didn’t ask to be glamored by the Princess of Love.”

I felt a surging guilt in my gut. “I feel like I haven’t really treated you well.”

His ears went up. “You haven’t? Well, if that means new and better treatment from Sergeant Pepper, I’m all for it. Didn’t know there was a next higher grade!”

I chuckled. “You’re not mad at Peach, either?”

He grew serious, giving his girlfriend just a glance. “I’ll admit there was a day or two I felt like giving her down the banks. I felt tossed aside. It’s not the first time I’ve felt that way, but… it was the most surprising.”

“But it was a spell,” Skelter reminded him.

“Right, and when I found out what’d happened, I forgave her, no hesitation. Honestly, I feel a bit bad for her.” He turned to Skelter and gave her a gentle, silent kiss. “She missed out on what she could’ve had.”

I was tempted to ask if it was necessarily too late. But of course, I couldn’t ask with his fillyfriend right there, so I just promised to pass along his well-wishes to Peach when I saw her.

We talked a bit longer. I wanted to make plans to see George again, but since I still wasn’t sure if I’d be going back to Trenton, I couldn’t commit to anything. Instead, in a playful mood, I asked Skelter about her domino cutie mark. Was it about destiny? One event toppling inexorably into another and another?

“Not as far as I know!” she said. “It’s just about the way one mistake leads to another until you slow down, look at the big picture, and stop whatever dumb thing you’re doing.”

That was a message I could drink to, even if I was drinking coffee.

At last, the ponies dispersed and so did my fellow humans, the other Friends of Equestria. Meg took a moment before slipping away to touch my shoulder and say, “I hope you stay.” Just that.

On my way out of Turtlewood Coffee, I took a moment to slow down, look at the big picture, and theoretically stop whatever dumb thing I was doing. This took the form of a deep breath.

That’s when I happened to spy the sign in the window that I’d missed on the way in. HELP WANTED.

I took another deep breath.  
  


* * *

  
[ Posted: 7/27/18 by Peach ]

I’ve got too much to say, so I’m just going to let it out a little bit at a time, as if I’m a balloon and someone’s unpinching my nozzle for just a second at once. I went back and visited my family this week. My dad’s got a new magic trick. I broke up with Pepper, or technically he broke up with me. It turns out I was under the influence for my last few posts and they were all done by someone who called herself New Peach, and she’s gone now. But she’s not totally gone. Because the other thing it turns out is that everyone is both New and Old, and whenever you leave a version of yourself behind, there’s always a piece you keep.

Shout-out to Clear Airways, my best friend since foalhood, for spreading the word! Princess Cadance likes chard and spinach pies. She also has a weird thing for kumquats. I’m still in love with Pepper. We’re moving out of our crazy small apartment and getting a new apartment that’s bigger and actually has a bedroom. He gets the bedroom because he’s the one who likes privacy more. He found my old ant farm and asked me if I really used to keep ants. I told him yeah, I did. He asked me why. I said it was ‘cause I liked the idea of a little world I could see all of, a world I could understand all at once.

While I was visiting my house back in Witherton, I wasn’t sure whether it was still home or whether I should think of this place on Earth as home, now. Pepper said I should write a poem to figure it out, so here one is:

Poem of the Day: How to tell where your home is

When rain soaks your coat   
And one voice after another tells you what you don’t want to hear,   
And there’s snarls in your tail   
And the streets only bend in ways you don’t want to go,

When things don’t make sense   
And falsehoods are presented as simple facts of life,   
When your heart cries out   
And a score of people tell you you’re wrong,

Then,

Wherever you’re desperate to go so you can take off your clothes and relax,   
Dry your hair   
Drink and eat a little   
And rest on something soft,   
That’s home.

And if you have someone to talk with and be with a little,   
Someone you love,

Then it’s home,  sweet home.

\- - - - -

Well, I guess that’s it, then.

Earth is my home now, at least for a while. Poetry doesn’t lie.

I never would have believed that a person’s home could change so fast.

545 COMMENTS

* * *

[ Posted: 7/27/18 by Peach ]

I believe that someday we’ll find another world and that Earth will just be a story in its storybooks.

I want to go there.

294 COMMENT **S**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Want any French toast?
> 
> This is the second-to-last chapter in this story. I've been writing it for so long that it's barely near-future fiction anymore. I have until the end of Season 6 to finish it before it becomes alternate present fiction!
> 
> I think the last chapter may be called "Peaches".
> 
> Seaswell and Uncle Clyde are worried about corporate globalization overrunning Equestria. The man in the unbuttoned suit asks, though: If we're just bringing things they want, and are willing to pay for, where's the danger? George wants to resolve this paradox: How can a heap of mutually accepted transactions add up to wreck and ruin? What do you think?
> 
> Yay, I finally reached 400 likes. :o)


	25. Peaches and Sparks

I GOT THE JOB at Turtlewood. I wrote a cover letter explaining my connections to their pony customer base, and in the interview I went into it a little more. The assistant manager who interviewed me was excited about it all, nodding a lot, and I was hired before I knew it. It was an especially nice surprise that he was willing to work around my schedule at the garden store, even though I was brand new. Because of the weekly meet-ups, he gave me Thursdays as often as possible.

Before long, though, I was able to get a regular schedule at the garden store too. I just told Vanessa I was okay not going back to full time in the winter, if in exchange I could get three solid days a week. So she put me on Monday/Tuesday/Saturday, and I did Turtlewood on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and things got stable fast. It felt like my life was healthy again for the first time since I was engaged.

Peach and I moved out of our studio apartment and got a one bedroom in the same building. After explaining our situation to the manager, he agreed to void Peach’s lease so that he could collect more money from us. It was so obvious, looking back, that was what we needed, but when you get caught up in the drama of your life, it can seem like every problem needs a solution related to whatever caused it in the first place. But that just isn’t true: Sometimes you’ve got to ask yourself what you’re happy about and what you’re not and let one thing decouple from another.

Barrett and Seaswell helped us move again, and this time George and Skelter stopped in for a while. Long enough to root us on, chat a little, and help haul a couple big items. But earth ponies just aren’t much good at carrying boxes, so they moved on with their day. Barrett asked me the state of things between me and Peach, and I felt only a little silly when I told him that she was my best friend.

He looked down as if into his own private world for a moment, then shook his head with a smile. “Not in love anymore?”

Since I’d told the story of the spell to the whole Friends of Equestria group, there hadn’t been any point withholding it from my own friends. “Not like when I was enchanted. I still really like her… but now we’re going to support each others’ love lives instead of being a couple.” It had been Peach’s idea to put it that way. In a way, she said, it’s actually better for us this way: even though we’re not playing games with each other, we still get to be on the same team.

“You think that’ll work? What if you find a girl and she learns you’re living with a girl pony?”

“We’ll be upfront about it. We’re best friends and roomies, but that doesn’t mean either of us couldn’t move out if we found someone special.”

“Just imagine what it’d look like if she was a woman, though! No one wants to date someone who’s living with his ex.”

That had occurred to us, but we’d agreed to swing with it. “We’ve got a great story to tell, though! Besides, this close to the Big Apple, who’s gonna judge us for saving on rent?”

“Guess you’ve got a point. Still, don’t be surprised if you find yourself striking out.”

“Honestly, Barrett, it’s okay if I don’t find a girlfriend. I feel like my life’s on the move, and that’s better than things have been.”

“Glad to hear it. And hey, I guess this way, you can be sure any girl you _do_ keep feels good about ponies.”

I smiled. “That’s how I figured it, too. I think from here on, that’s gonna be a must.”

He chuckled and rubbed his fist in my side.

The group at Turtlewood kept hammering out its philosophy. They made fliers and press kits. They picked candidates to endorse in the midterms. They assembled testimonials from and about the hundred and fifty or so humans who’d been to Equestria, and mine was usually prominent. Once my story got out, I was contacted for interviews by a few different news outlets. I did them all, either by phone or in person. They never asked for as much detail as the Friends of Equestria did, but the interviewers all seemed fascinated. I took the chance to ask them what they thought of a potential open borders policy, and they mostly said it was certainly worth working toward. I gave them our literature and suggested they interview Uncle Clyde and Red Rover.

I didn’t get to actually attend most of the meetings, since I had to work the counter, but I stopped in now and then, and some of the Friends always checked in with me afterward to keep me informed. I managed to sell a lot of smoothies and ice teas; as summer turned to fall, I pushed a bunch of hot drinks on the ponies, and peppermint cocoa was the one that took off. A thirty-something guy joined the group and took to showing speeches on his tablet computer that were made before Congress on Equestrian affairs. Once, they got a grainy black and white video of the Equestrian Oversight Committee meeting in Trottingham to discuss issues related to potential human immigrants; that drew a huge crowd and had the Friends talking for quite a while.

Peach kept blogging, and I wrote a few posts of my own now and then. Mostly to give the human perspective on things that were special about ponies—her Equestrian readers seemed to find that really amusing.

Eventually Meg and I started talking again, and as easy as anything, we decided to go on a date. I visited her in Springfield and she showed me her favorite restaurant. We had a nice enough time, but there wasn’t really enough energy to keep a good conversation going. On the plus side, we agreed just as easily that there hadn’t been a spark, and we’d both learned a little about what we needed in a relationship.

When I talked it over later with Peach, we decided that I really did need some of what Cindy’d had to offer, despite what I’d written on her blog while I was Cadanced up. Now that my work schedule was stable and my social life was turning into something more solid than a few scattered friendships, I was coming to realize that I needed stabilizing influences. Cindy might have been a little too stabilizing, but Peach was the opposite. That was also the night I confessed to Peach that I’d come one button click away from proposing marriage. She was amazed and laughed nervously for the rest of the night, but she told me she wasn’t really surprised—she’d come pretty close to popping the question while under the spell, too.

Another night, we had a long conversation about her fantasies. I’d made green coconut soup, so we opened the window and set up a little table next to it so we could enjoy the invigorating breeze while we ate, pretending we were on a balcony. I asked her if she thought any of the ponies in the regular Turtlewood crowd were attractive. She thought about it, but told me that when push came to shove, she’d probably end up going out with another man, not a stallion.

“How come?” I asked.

“’Cause you guys are really neat!” she said.

She confessed to being a xenophile. Coming to Earth had been scary at first, but had helped her realize that she relished the wild and unknown. She wanted a boyfriend from another world—someone so different from herself she’d never run out of things to discover. I pointed out that she’d been attracted to George, and she nodded a bunch and said that George, too, had been exotic and different—not only an earth pony, but a non-Equestrian, and a traveler by trade. It made sense.

“So,” I asked, “if you could have any boyfriend in the world… what do you think he’d be like?”

“You’re assuming I’m straight!” she teased.

“I know you’re straight. You told me so that one time.”

“Oh yeah. Well… that’s a great question.” She propped herself on the table, head in front of the window. “He’d be from someplace I’d never heard of. We’d talk about going there someday. And he’d have all these interests that baffled me until I started to learn them, bit by bit. And he’d be baffled by all my interests! Our dates would just be big question marks rolled up in a ball for the first six months until we started to delve in.”

I laughed. “Well, but for starters, is he a pony or a human?”

She thought about it. “Probably a dragon!”

“What? Seriously?”

“That way I could be scared of him! But then he’d show me how gentle he is and that he’d never ever eat me, and I could be amazed by all the different things about his body and learn all kinds of weird things about dragon culture and it’d be so much fun!”

“I never knew you had a thing for dragons!”

“I didn’t until now! I just made that up!”

“So… you just developed a thing for dragons over the last twenty seconds?”

She shrugged. “I guess! If you asked me again, I might give you a different answer.”

“Your fantasy boyfriend changes every time you think about him?”

“Maybe. Let’s try!”

So we tried. I asked her again, who’s your ideal boyfriend? And she really did give me a different answer. Over and over. Her ideal boyfriend would be a colt she’d met at the regional fair once, impressing grown-ups with his magical juggling, who’d peered into the water with her after dark, after which they’d spent an hour telling each other what they saw in it. He’d be that colt, all grown up; or he’d be a logger in the Undiscovered West, carving livable land from the wilderness so that Peach could spend her days building a village there. He’d be a Native Hawaiian surfer with hair like a pony’s mane, hungry for sex in all the unlikeliest places. He’d be Fancy Pants, on the run from the law and forced to discover the joys of the countryside. He’d be George Harrison. He’d be the late, great George Harrison, restored to life. He’d be a futurist at Apple, with a hoverboard and countless gadgets, eager to talk Peach into being early adopters for all the newest cyberware. He’d be a zebra with a deep singing voice, a nomadic grazer on a quest to chart all the watersheds in the world. He’d be Sunburst, all the more fecund in his magical studies for her insightful encouragement, pushing the limits of the possible. He’d be Barack Obama. He’d be a trader with ties to Griffonstone and Yakyakistan. He’d be a talking pterodactyl, magically resurrected from a Cretacious that never was. He’d be a hydroponics engineer living with her in an artificial biosphere. He’d be Master Splinter. He’d be Daring Do’s brother. He’d be Discord. He’d be a Wonderbolt. He’d be me.

“So we finally came around to me, huh?” I asked.

“Sorry. You’d better ask again.”

“What if I don’t? Will you be pining for me all night?”

“I’ll be pining for you until someone asks me again! Until then, I’m stuck like this!”

“Peach, you are so silly.”

She was teetering around a sea of pillows on the floor by now. “I’m only silly when you get me that way.”

“So it’s my fault?”

She stood up. “Is being silly a fault?”

I sighed and held out a hand for her. She put her hoof in it. “You and your graspy hands.”

I leaned close and nuzzled her with my hair. “Being silly isn’t a fault when it’s you.”

She looked at me. “Pepper, you’re so cool. Do you know that? You’re so cool.”

“Hey Peach,” I said. “Who’s your ideal boyfriend?”

She blinked and paused. “I’m glad you asked…”  
  


* * *

  
She was able to move on. With so many possibilities, how could she not be? Still, it was a relief once I was really convinced that Peach was okay not being my girlfriend. I was one of those exotic humans, sure, but ultimately I felt like she deserved someone more interesting than me. I was good at rolling with her humor, but she needed something deeper… and I needed something in a relationship closer to ‘familiar’ than ‘exotic’. Peach had become familiar to me over the months, but she still had this huge wondrous side I couldn’t fully appreciate, and while I couldn’t say I didn’t want to explore it, I felt like it deserved a better explorer than me. If I’d stayed with her, I might have found myself sliding on the loose flagstone of her dreams… and I needed bedrock. So I kept looking.

After months of intermittent pressure, Second Sight finally talked Peach into interviewing at her lab, which was run by Columbia University. I remember Peach being nervous that morning, sitting in funny places and going over hypothetical interview questions to herself aloud. She drank coffee but skipped breakfast.

“I didn’t think you were gonna be so worked up about this,” I observed.

“Neither did I! I wasn’t really thinking about it like a job interview until last night. I was thinking of it more like, they want to talk to me and maybe I’ll think about letting them recruit me. But Pepper, what if it’s a great job and I’m just not _qualified_ for it? What if they think I’m not qualified ‘cause I don’t remember enough about electronics or materials science or integrated circuit architecture?”

“Are you even going to be working with integrated circuits at Nevis?”

“I don’t know! Probably not. But that’s what I work with now, so if I don’t even know about that, how can I impress them?”

I batted her tie. “By dressing for success, I guess. I find it amusing that you’re wearing a tie and collar, but no suit.”

“Well that’s how you dress!” she replied, rearing up and letting it dangle. “Wearing a tie says, ‘I’m here for a job interview!’”

“You know, women don’t usually wear ties, even when they go to interviews. With humans, ties are just for men.”

“Yeah, I know. I figured that out. But with ponies, both sexes wear ‘em.”

“I wonder why that is.”

“Maybe they’re just funnier that way?” She magically pulled her tie tight. “Actually, they’re pretty funny either way. What’s the point of a tie?”

“Well, I’m thinking since you don’t usually wear anything to work, a tie is as close as you can get to naked and still make it clear you’re serious.”

“I _am_ serious today! I didn’t realize how much I want this job to work out.”

“It seemed like you were really nervous about the idea.”

She peered plaintively. “Well, imagine someone wanted to hire you just so they could test everything about you. Imagine that your job was being a professional test subject.”

I tried to, but it was hard to imagine anyone caring that much about me. Maybe if I lived among ponies who’d never met a human before? I imagined them poking and prodding and sticking things into me all day, then being given a bag of bits. I could put up with that for a day or two, sure. Maybe for a week or a month. But I couldn’t think of something like that being a _career._

“I think I see what you mean. It’s demeaning.”

“That might be the word for it. It’s like it makes me into just a person who does telekinetic magic. Like that’s all I am. I mean, I don’t mind showing off what I can do, but I’m not so sure about it being what I do all day, five days a week.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. So why are you suddenly interested in the job?”

Her tail bristled. “Because this way I get to be a part of furthering science! Second Sight convinced me that it’s really important right now for unicorns like us to help, because when advanced cultures collide, that can mean _huge_ advances in understanding, and there’s maybe _never_ been a bigger collision of civilizations than ours! This is a really big time in history, Pepper.”

“Maybe so, but the thing is, I’ve been hearing that my whole life. From my perspective, it’s _always_ been a really big time in history, and it seems like it’s always getting bigger.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Peach. “First Cadance, then Luna, then the return of Discord, then the Crystal Empire and Twilight and Starlight… and then the God-Tremor and Earth and humanity, whose imaginations _contain our world_ … but maybe this is what it seems like to everyone, no matter when they’re born. Maybe every moment in history is big compared to everything that’s come before, but small compared to what’s coming.”

“Well, it’s been a long time since we had a world war,” I pointed out.

“Good for you! Is this a historically peaceful time in human history?”

“Well, no, I don’t think so, but I think we are safer and healthier in general than we used to be.”

“Well there you go. If we’re not making history with villains and wars, we’re making history with discovery and peace. History is cumulative. And it builds.”

“But you’re still gonna give your time and magic to Nevis Labs, even if this moment is history is nothing special?”

“It’s _always_ special,” said Peach. “And that’s why I’m going to give this interview my best.”

“You should show them that grain of rice you made with King Friday the Thirteenth.”

“Can I? They might like that.”

“I think if you just tell them everything you’re telling me, you’ll impress them.”

“I hope so. Second Sight says she gets to help determine the direction of research, so she’s really a team member and not just a subject. So that could be a step up from where I am now. Then again, she’s trained in academic writing.”

“And you’re just a blogger.”

“Yeah! What do I know from academic?”

“I bet you could learn.”

She looked hopefully at me. “You think so?”

“Sure. You learned blogging really fast, and now you’ve got ten thousand readers. You’re a prodigy.”

“I think I just have so many readers ‘cause there aren’t a lot of ponies on Earth yet, and they’re all curious.”

“Well, then you’re a genius for finding markets. Maybe you’ll have amazing ideas for what kind of things to research.”

She drew her neck up. “I hope so! But I’ll need your help if I’m gonna learn academic research.”

“You think it’s something I know?”

“No, but you’re good at helping me learn things. I like reading books with you. And you’re good at explaining!”

I was flattered. “I guess maybe I’ve got perspective. I know how to look at things like I’m an outsider. Even after four years here in the Tri-State, I still feel like an outsider.”

“Even now that you have Turtlewood and the Friends?”

She had a point. “I guess I’m starting to feel at home.”

“Careful!” she warned, getting her face close to mine. “You don’t want to lose your perspective.”

“I don’t think I will,” I reassured her. “You’re always giving me more.”

She gave me a little kiss on the nose. I walked her to the bus stop.

She wound up getting the job. They were impressed by her enthusiasm and the questions she asked, and by her skill at fine magical engraving. She gave notice at ThuneTec, who weren’t all that upset to see her leave, since the marginal benefit they got from her had been declining the more she’d helped them answer their R&D questions. A couple of her coworkers threw her a small going-away party, and I got to go and meet them. It was kind of odd, meeting people I knew my friend probably wouldn’t be seeing again.

They put Peach to work working with very small devices. First they tested to see how finely she could control things—how small a switch she could flip, how small a capacitor she could discharge—and then they worked with her to design a regimen for trying to improve her abilities. Peach told me cheerfully one evening, “They’re paying me to exercise!” She found herself sent to work with faculty and grad students from other departments, such as kinesiology and biochem, and she told me excitedly about those trips before embarking on them, then told me all about how they’d gone in the evenings.

The funny thing was, when I called my mom up to describe all this to her, she said that to her, it sounded almost like we were already married. That threw me for a loop. So, buoyed by that, I told her all about my trip to Equestria, and how there was a time I nearly _had_ asked Peach to marry me. Mom was pretty amazed, but it turned out she was actually okay with the idea of me winding up with a pony. “Well, Mom,” I said, “Peach is my best friend and she’s going to stay that way, but it’s great to know you feel that way.”

“Just in case,” she told me knowingly.

“Just in case,” I agreed.  
  


* * *

  
Halfway through September, I realized that I still hadn’t taken Peach to the orchard we’d seen from the bus, and peach season was ending. We’d put it off mostly because the trip out there was a hassle without a car, but I didn’t want her to have to wait for next summer. So, since it had been Laurie’s idea in the first place, I called her up and asked whether she and Jack would like to go along, and by the way, would they mind driving? She thought it was funny, and since they were both up for the fresh air, we made official plans for Sunday. Peach was so excited when I told her that she pranced up onto my shoulders, making me fall down into the sofa, then climbed into my lap!

“You’re gonna take me for peaches!” she declared, lightly hoofbumping my nose.

“I know. I just said.”

“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten. I’m all excited!”

“You’re practically rampant,” I remarked, remembering a book of heraldic terms she’d discovered not long ago.

“No I’m not! I’m sejant. I’m sejant in your lap!” She leapt to the floor and reared up, flailing three legs for the brief moment she was able to stand on only one. “ _This_ is rampant! Raar!” Falling to all fours, she raised one forehoof. “Now I’m passant!” She alternated dropping each forehoof and lifting the other, singsonging: “I’m so passant on my four legs.”

“Doesn’t that mean ‘passive’?” I asked, thinking she was anything but.

“Nope! It means ‘striding’ or ‘walking’!” She walked stiltedly over to me, using only one leg at a time.

I laughed. “Are you going to be like this all the way through ‘til Sunday?”

“I wasn’t going to, but now I’m gonna have to ‘cause that sounds like a challenge.”

“You’re going to get tired and fall asleep aaaalll over the floor,” I teased her.

“Nope! Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah, you will. You’ll have legs and hooves sprawling _everywhere._ You’ll be a mash-up of all those heraldic attitudes at once.”

“Nope! I’m gonna drink all the coffee and stay awake the whole time and never stop being excited.”

Peach had actually gotten a little too comfortable with coffee until I told her how it seemed to change her behavior, and then she’d moderated herself. “If you drink all the coffee, I’ll fall asleep!”

“You work at a coffee place!”

“Not for long, if you drink all the coffee.”

“I didn’t mean in the whole world!”

“The way you’re acting? Could’ve fooled me.”

She kissed me on the cheek and went on being silly and excited. I’d actually come to adore it when she got like that. It was better than her being angsty, and she respected my right to privacy enough that I could just go into the bedroom if I felt the need to get away from her antics. When she did tire out that night, though, she fell asleep sprawling on the floor in a mixed-up heraldic pose, just to spite… herself, I guess? She always had a unique sense of humor.  
  


* * *

  
Peach told me, when we were up and away in the morning, that there was an ‘Equestrian breeze’ that day. She had a sweater on, but with this warm, aromatic breeze buffeting us from far away, she didn’t really need it. I admitted that it was exceptionally warm for September. “Inspiringly warm” was how Peach put it.

When she mentioned it to Jack, he told us about a two-day trip he’d taken once, kayaking along the Merrimack River. The breeze, he told us, had transported them both literally and figuratively, and today’s breeze reminded him of that heady time. Peach stuck her head out the window as we pulled onto the turnpike. She sang all she could remember of the Simon and Garfunkel song “America” just so she could get to the final line: “Counting the cars on the New Jersey turnpike! They’ve aall come to look fooor Ameerica!”

“Pretty sure you’ve found it,” said Jack.

We pulled into Pleasantview Orchard a few songs later and started to spot the signs of farming—beginning with actual signs like “LAST WEEKEND FOR PEACHES!” and “PUMPKINS COMING OCT. 1”. The road was lined with non-fruiting trees and paved with bright gravel. A couple baskets of eggplants, cabbages, peppers and greens were set to either side of the large, wooden front door. We parked where the signs told us and went inside.

There were a fair number of people there. Peach was the only pony, and that brought her plenty of attention. She didn’t seem to mind, though. All the kids in the shoproom turned their attention to her, and one five-year-old girl waddled over to get a closer look.

“Hi!” Peach said to her.

The girl was surprised and shied back, eyes bugging in fascination.

“Aubrey, come here!” called her mother.

“Is that a pony?” asked the girl’s brother.

“Yes, that’s a pony, from Equestria,” we heard the mother explain. “We should treat her with respect.”

“I love respect,” Peach murmured to us. “But I wouldn’t mind if the kids wanted to come and climb on me and stuff, either.”

“Oh, you’ll get sick of it soon enough,” said Jack. “You haven’t been on Earth long enough.”

Peach frowned. “Well, maybe if I do, I’ll know it’s time to leave.”

“You know,” said Laurie, “you can go over and say hi to them if you want.”

This gave Peach a little dilemma, but she did approach the family. It was a mom, dad, and three little kids, and Peach said it was okay if they wanted to feel her ears or hair or whatever. The mom was worried about Peach getting hurt from careless fingers or words, but dad crouched down and watched his kids run their hands over Peach’s pelt.

“Can I touch your horn?” asked the older girl.

“Well, that’s the sort of thing you have to ask,” said Peach, “so I’m glad you did. A unicorn’s horn is kind of private, even though it’s out in the open. But yes, you can touch it for a moment.”

As the girl did, I remembered when I’d touched her horn for a lot longer than that, in the days and nights following Radio City. It had made me so excited at the time, like I was breaking down a huge wall to reveal an undiscovered country. I no longer had any particular desire to touch Peach’s horn, and the fact that I had felt weird.

“You shouldn’t touch someone’s cutie mark without permission, either,” Peach told one of the kids.

“Sorry,” she said, drawing her hand back.

“Really, you shouldn’t touch _any_ part of someone without permission,” said Laurie.

“Well, yeah, but especially the horn and cutie marks,” Peach replied. “And wings, if it’s a pegasus.”

“Do you want to ask permission, Avery?” said Dad.

The child smiled. “Can I touch your cutie mark?”

“May I,” corrected Dad.

“May I touch your cutie mark?”

“Sure,” said Peach.

So the child did. “What is it?”

“Is it buildings?” asked the brother.

“It’s a couple of towers, connected with a spark of magic, or maybe electricity.”

“Are you an electrician?” asked Mom.

“Kind of. I work with electrical components, but I never made anything fancier than a lamp. These days I’m involved in magical research.”

“Wow, that’s really something,” said the young dad. “What kind of research?”

“Well, right now we’re testing whether physical or mental exercise have an effect on a unicorn’s telekinetic precision. There’s four of us in the test pool, plus a couple unicorns without telekinesis doing similar tests. So far it looks like the answer’s yes, and the performance curve looks a lot like it does for a human surgeon.”

The dad stood up. “What sort of applications are you working toward?”

“Working with anti-matter! They’ve got a facility out on Long Island that makes it, and they’re looking into how it interacts with magic!”

“That sounds pretty dangerous,” said Mom. “Are you going to be working with it yourself?”

“Maybe! But only once they know it’s safe.”

“I don’t know how they could ever know that before you do it!” said Mom. “But good luck.”

The kids finished petting Peach, and the family said goodbye and moved on to get seats for an educational presentation at the barn. We went to the main counter, which was festooned with red bags and baskets and a sign informing us that if you pick it, you’ve bought it.

“Hello!” said the lady there. “Here for apples, grapes or peaches?”

“Peaches,” said Peach, standing tall.

“I should have known. It’s the last day of the year for pick-your-own peaches, so there’s been a lot of folks coming through. The next wagon is at eleven to take you out to the late season varietals, or you can walk if you prefer.”

“What do you say?” I asked.

“We’ll take the wagon,” decided Peach. “Do you get a discount if your name has ‘Peach’ in it?”

“No,” said the clerk, “but it does get you an extra smile.”  
  


* * *

  
As we waited for the wagon outside, Laurie asked Peach about her cutie mark, having overheard the conversation with the family. Peach told her what she’d once told me, and they moved from there to the nature of magic. It seemed like a good day to discuss that kind of thing. Peach expounded on her theory about how magic is what connects the contents of our imaginations to reality. Soon we were all speculating on what exactly magic was, its relationship to science, and what, if anything, its limits were.

The wagon rolled up, pulled by a handsome pair of draft horses. Peach stared at them as they trotted, apparently mindlessly, up to the bales of hay set out for waiting, and stopped at the driver’s slight tug. “You guys are perfect at what you do, aren’t you?” she murmured to them. But they didn’t respond.

The driver directed everyone to disembark and told them where to go to ring up their purchases. “All aboard!” he went on. “You all have your bags or baskets? We’re bound for the peach rows!”

He didn’t seem fazed by the presence of a pony on the wagon, but a few of the other riders acted a little weird. Since Peach lay on one of the bales instead of sitting up, she took up twice as much room as anyone else, which earned her a stare from an old lady. About halfway to our destination, a mischievous little boy sneaked around behind our bale and pulled Peach’s tail. She sat up with a squeal and called “Hey!” after him, but he scampered away. She told us she’d thought of hoisting him up by his pants, but thought that might cause trouble, and besides, her levitation was better for small weights, anyway.

On our way out, a nice old lady apologized to Peach for the fact it had happened. “Oh, thanks. Is he your grandson?”

“No, I don’t know him,” said the lady. “But his behavior was inappropriate, and I thought _someone_ ought to apologize to you.”

The idea of apologizing for a stranger was a funny one, and it provided more conversational grist for us after we’d been given instructions for picking peaches. “Is that actually worth anything?” speculated Jack. “Apologizing for something that’s not your fault?”

“It can demonstrate awareness of the issue,” answered Laurie.

“Like it’s so insightful to know that pulling on someone’s tail is a jerky thing to do?”

“I actually appreciated the apology,” said Peach. “It’s just good to know you’re not alone sometimes.”

I understood more or less how she felt. Going to Equestria had given me a sense of what it’s like to be the only one of my species for miles around, and working with the Friends had helped me sift through those thoughts. I hadn’t been there nearly as long as Peach had been here, of course, and I’d had at least her to guide me the whole time, so my experience hadn’t been as challenging as hers by a longshot, but it still stuck with me. It’s one thing to be the only white guy in the room, or the only American in the room… but being the only one who’s _made_ like you, the only one of your species, feels different. There’s a weight to it that goes beyond classifications that people give each other or decide to care about. It feels like a piece of _nature’s_ abandoned you. But as I’d said to Peach many times, I was glad I’d taken the extra day to visit her hometown. I might never have the chance again.

A chipper little woman in a wrap over a tank top explained to us about the varieties of trees we’d find in each row, and the difference between white and yellow peaches. The white ones, she explained, were sweeter, with a more floral flavor, while the yellows were more robust.

“Wow,” said Peach. “That’s not how it is in Equestria.”

The guide was taken aback for a couple seconds, but then got deeply curious. “How is it different there?”

“We don’t have white peaches that I know of. We’ve got yellow and red. And the red ones are really intense, with this… _red_ flavor.”

“Is that actually red flesh, not just the peel?”

“Yep! Mostly red, anyway. More pinkish. They’ve got those near where I grew up.”

“There is such a thing as a red-fleshed peach on Earth, but it’s rare. Once we bought a lug of Indian Blood Peaches. Those were something! The insides make it look like it’s coated in jelly, just under the skin… but it’s firm! They actually make good jam.”

“The ones I’m thinking of are extra juicy,” said Peach. “You can drink the juice straight with egg toast and it’s really filling. Kind of pricey, though.”

“Have you ever had papaya?” asked the guide. “Is the taste of your red peaches anything like that?”

The two of them had a good geek-out session over peaches until someone else had a question for the guide and she had to pull herself away. Peach trotted back and grinned up at us.

“Having fun?” I asked.

“Yep. I want to try one.”

We’d been instructed to take only one bite out here, to sample our fruit—they didn’t want us eating the merchandise before we could pay for it. “I guess you’ve got to choose which kind it’ll be.”

“I’m leaning toward the Summer Pearl,” said Laurie.

“I want a clingstone,” said Peach. “They’re juicier.” She started walking toward a nearby row, as if drawn by destiny.

“I think she said most of the late season peaches are freestones,” Laurie pointed out. Peach left her behind and approached a row of trees, peering at their fruit. She shook her head and walked to the next row. I noticed people watching her.

“There’s the White Heaths,” said Jack, pointing. “She said those were clingstones.”

“Better for canning,” said Peach. “And I don’t want to try white flesh yet. I want yellow so I can compare it to home.” She kept walking and peering.

I looked around too. A tree with leaves so friendly it looked almost made up caught my eye. All the peaches on it had the same beautiful red blush on one side. “What about those?” I asked.

Peach turned and teetered on three hooves for a moment. She licked her lips. She went toward the tree.

Thanks to decades of cultivation, the trees were short enough a tall person could just about reach the highest fruit on the very top. Peach wasn’t tall, but she had otherworldly magic working for her, so she sat down and plucked the very highest fruit off that tree. I glanced at the sign—Starn, it said. Peach tumbled the peach she’d chosen around in her blue aura, whetting her appetite. She took a bite. There was a small eruption of applause from the people who’d been watching her quest, surprising both of us.

“Mmf!” she said, looking around in surprise with juice dripping down her throat.

I laughed. “How is it?”

She didn’t answer right away, choosing to chew for a while before she swallowed. “It’s good. It’s really… it’s complex. Not as knock-em-down euphoric as an Equestrian peach. But there’s more going on.”

“Do you like it better?”

Her ears quivered. “I wish I could try another bite.”

“Go on,” encouraged the guide in the wrap and tank top. “Take another bite.” Some of the watchers laughed.

Peach had another big bite, which she mulled ponderously. “I like your peaches,” she finally decided. “This one is _really_ ripe.”

“Well, it’s been waiting all season for you to find it,” said the guide.

Peach tumbled it some more before sticking it in her basket. “This is gonna be really fun when we get home. I’m gonna make so many things with these peaches. Okay, let’s get a bunch of kinds!” She marched off seemingly at random, plucking fruit as she went.

I followed her at a distance, filling my basket according to my own instincts. Eventually, we wound up together. She asked me if I could get a peach free that was stuck so tightly between branches her magic couldn’t pry it out. I did, and thought about asking her to pluck one that was out of my reach, but I didn’t actually care about individual peaches. Other than her.

“You know,” she said, “this is really putting me in a frame of mind.”

“What kind of frame?”

“The kind of frame where you think about everything. Laurie was asking about my cutie mark earlier, after that guy with the kids asked if I was an electrician. I told her it’s probably about how I try to connect things. Like I’m connecting Earth with Equestria by blogging, and just by being here.”

‘That sounds right to me. Why, are you rethinking it?”

I could still see juice stains down her front when she stretched up to see the peaches she was plucking. “Maybe a little. ‘Cause it’s an electric spark between two towers. You know why a spark happens?”

“Because of electric potential?”

“Yeah! One tower has a lot of extra electrons lying around and the other not so much, and the electrons are so excited about finding a new home that they forge a path right across the air, where there’s not a ton of atoms for them to hitch onto. They go wandering in the wilderness, but the spark means they’ve found their way.”

I wondered whether she really thought electrons got excited. “It feels to me like you’ve found your way,” I observed.

“Yeah. I think I’m the spark, and you were a big waystation on my path. You let me spark through you, Pepper. And it could be the gap is just between my world and yours, like I thought.”

I could see her point. “Your world with all its extra magic, and ours that needs some.”

“Right. But then I got thinking about magic. If it’s what connects what’s in our souls to reality, does that mean you humans aren’t connected to your reality? Does the fact you don’t have any magic mean you’re just drifting around with no connection between your inner lives and your outer ones?”

I stroked her mane slowly. “That doesn’t feel right.”

“No, it doesn’t! My sister and a few of the folks at home thought that might be how it was here, but when I got settled in, I realized it wasn’t that dreary at all! You _do_ connect your visions and desires to the world. You do it by making them true! And when the world isn’t the right way for that, you invent something new to make it that way.”

“So maybe magic isn’t the only way to make that connection.”

She was excited. “Maybe magic doesn’t make that connection happen at all! Maybe magic is what _happens_ when you _make_ the connection!”

I tried to get my head around that. “So why don’t we humans make magic happen when we invent things?”

“You do! That’s what technology _is!_ It’s a kind of magic. I go to work and I see all the cool things they’ve got at the lab, and I think to myself, ‘Wow, I’m surrounded by magic.’ We unicorns… we’re really good at connecting our inner selves to the outside world. That’s how our magic happens. For animals, they don’t need to make any kind of connection. It’s automatic. Their inner and outer selves are the same. But for ponies like me, with complex inner lives, we need something to bridge the gap. Because you only get a spark if there’s a gap! So we need a horn to do it with, and magic is what happens when we do it. Maybe. I haven’t thought it all the way through.”

I kept picking fruit. “What about pegasus ponies? Don’t they have magic?”

“Yeah… and it doesn’t make noise or sparks or anything. Same with earth ponies. So maybe I’m on the wrong track. But I still want to find out what the theorists think! Maybe there’s two things we’re calling ‘magic.’ There’s the sparkly show you get when you use a horn or a scroll or a magic item, and that’s one. And the other is whatever makes it possible to realize your desires in the first place. Whatever lets a pegasus stand on a cloud or an earth pony make plants grow or a dragon breathe fire… or really, for that matter, whatever lets us think ‘I want to do this’ and have our muscles move to make it happen! Maybe whenever we choose to move our bodies at all, that’s the second kind of magic.”

“But there’s a neural impulse that travels down from the brain along the nerves to whatever muscle we move. Are you saying neurology is magic?”

“Maybe not the impulses, but whatever sparks them in the first place.”

“You don’t think they’re a natural function of the brain?”

“I think we might be talking past each other. But that’s okay. I might be talking past myself, too.”

We talked past each other for a while longer, but it felt a lot like talking _to_ each other. Then we caught up with Jack and Laurie and made sure all our baskets were full.

“You two have a good time?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. I got to think through a lot,” replied Peach.

“Thinking? What, no smoochie?”

“Jack!” scolded Laurie.

“No smoochie,” I said. “But I think it’s better this way.”

We went back and waited for the wagon trip back to the storeroom. Laurie suggested that we come back for the corn maze in October, and Peach was all excited to learn they had a corn maze. Then we started talking about Halloween traditions, and Peach decided she wanted to carve a bunch of jack-o-lanterns. I pointed out it was silly to have jack-o-lanterns when you live in an apartment, but Jack offered to take them and display them, which made Peach happy.

We sang along to the radio as Jack drove us back. Afterwards, we visited with the two of them long enough to make peach salad and a fresh smoothie. Peach showed off her ability to tell apart slices from different kinds of peaches while blindfolded. I didn’t ask why Laurie owned a blindfold.

For the next week we ate peaches every day. Peach soup with mint and basil, peach drinks, peach cake with blackberries and blueberries. We brought some to the coffeeshop to share, which was technically against the rules but my boss didn’t care. Peach had me tell all the ponies there about Halloween. We planned a big Halloween party, which wound up being a barrel of fun, and half a dozen Friends of Equestria joined us on our eventual trip through the corn maze. Peach kept doing heraldic poses the whole time. “Look! I’m passant through the maze!”

I tried carving a jack-o-lantern of a pony’s face. I hadn’t carved pumpkins since I was a teen, though, so it ended up looking more like a goblin. Peach carved a dragon’s head, and one of George Harrison the Beatle, and one of her Aunt Iggles, and one of a female goblin to keep mine company.

In November, she started occasionally carpooling with Second Sight out to Brookhaven National Laboratory in Upton, Long Island, where they had an antimatter facility. She’d been cleared for preliminary experiments, and it was time to get her situated with the equipment they’d be using. In January, she started actually working with freshly created antimatter—only ever for a minuscule split second. Every time she went out, I was nervous for the whole day that there’d be an explosion and she wouldn’t come back. Or even that, somehow, mixing magic with antimatter would destroy the world. It wasn’t a rational fear, really, since they’d done their research to make sure that wouldn’t happen, but I couldn’t help it. I figured for those who knew it was happening, it must have felt a lot like when the first nuclear bombs were tested, and no one knew for sure the chain reaction wouldn’t fuse the entire atmosphere and blow up the planet.

But Peach always came back from Brookhaven, generally excited and eager to share. She gushed about what they were discovering, and we struggled through essays and books together in order to learn more about her subject—the possible formation of stable exotic atoms.

Peach lay on the futon and read aloud, unconsciously doing a ‘science’ voice. “‘In reality, they annihilate because particles will always “try” to have the lowest rest mass possible while preserving quantum numbers. This, of course, is not actually a reason why they do what they do—it’s a way we can justify it, given certain mathematical and physical observations. It’s a way that we could theoretically predict they would annihilate, had we never observed it taking place.’ Pepper, do you get what he’s saying?”

I was folding laundry. “Not really. Do you?”

She tilted her head in thought. “I think it’s saying that particles don’t think about our rules when they do what they do. They have their own rules, and we make rules to try to make sense of it.”

“Do they really have rules, though? Or do they just do what they do?”

“Good point. Maybe particles are anarchists.”

“It seems like you’re always personifying subatomic particles,” I pointed out. “But they’re not people.”

“Well, you guys personified your horses, and I bet you don’t regret that now.”

She had me there.  
  


* * *

  
I got an e-mail from Grigorius the Unrelenting, who’d apparently forgotten the name of Peach’s blog, but took the time to work it out later, and decided to write when he made a day trip to Foal’s Paradise, the closest internet hub to his home on Foal Mountain. He said he’d caught halfway up on the blog and was glad to see we were doing well. He also asked if I could do some research for him about how humans make nickel foil, since there wasn’t enough detail on the internet. I wrote back agreeing to it, and later wound up mailing him a couple of books. We became pen pals of the old-fashioned letter kind. From then on, whenever anyone had a speculation or argument about dragons, I was able to say, “Well, I’ve got a dragon pen pal—I can just ask him!”

George and Skelter eventually broke up, as most of their friends privately expected they would. George was stoic about it, while Skelter was all nerves for a few days before starting to calm down. At our meetings, George started to talk about leaving town. “I’ve given a good couple years to the folks on this side of the portal, and it may be time I set my eyes on my own native side again.”

“Anywhere in particular?” asked Kellydell.

“Well, I’m thinking of crossing the old pond again. The one on our side, I mean. It’s funny, really, that both worlds have their own ‘pond’, and in between there’s the ‘portal’. But I haven’t seen the old country in a while, and I could use the grounding. Could visit Dream Valley and stroll through the ruins of Paradise Estate. That’d put the color back in my soul, no question.”

“That sounds fun,” said Seaswell. “We should take another trip, Kelly!”

“We should. But are you coming back, George?”

He smiled. “Don’t worry, Kell. If it feels like there’s cause enough to draw me back to the city that never sleeps, I’ll heed that call. And I doubt I’ll want to go a lifetime without seeing you and your fine husband again.”

“I hope not!” said Seaswell, placing a hoof gently against George’s side. “We’d miss you.”

Then, one Friday afternoon, he showed up at my door, apologizing for the unexpected visit. I invited him in, but told him Peach was at work and wouldn’t be home for a while yet.

“Well, Sergeant, the truth is, I knew she’d be out. I came looking for a little wisdom, and I thought you might be able to provide.”

“What is it?”

He cocked his head in an unexpectedly boyish—well, coltish—way. “Do you suppose she might have room in her heart for me again? Now that we’re both unattached?”

It was the most obvious reason for him to have wanted to see me, but I was still surprised. I had to think it over. But I knew Peach did want companionship again, and she did still think about George from time to time. “She might. It’s definitely worth a try.”

He asked me what she was looking for in a relationship these days. We chatted a while, and he excused himself before Peach got home. When she did, I broached the subject, and she got nervous.

“I could go on a date with him, sure.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well…” She looked at me. “What if he sweeps me off my hooves and convinces me to go away with him? Then you’ll be left alone.”

I grinned. “Do you really think that’s a possibility?”

She nodded a bunch. “It could happen.”

Now I had to take it seriously. “Well, I’d be left in the lurch, I guess. I’m not sure what I’d do. I might have to move back to Trenton after all, or see if anyone in the Friends has a place I could stay, or wants to be a new roommate.”

She looked sad and hopeful at once.

“But that’s fine. I’d be fine, Peach. If you want to go traveling with George… if that’s what would make you happy…”

Her eyes welled up and she came over so I could rest my hand in her mane.

“…Then that’s what you should do.”

“I wouldn’t just disappear in the night. I’d tell you, I promise.”

“Good. I’d want to say goodbye.”

We stayed like that for a while, me stooped with my hand in her brown hair, her sitting and thinking thoughts a world away.  
  


* * *

  
They went on one date. It was at a nice restaurant on Staten Island with a rooftop terrace. Peach said they could see New Jersey over the Arthur Kill. She said the dinner was fantastic and the service was friendly. She said they watched a lot of people from that rooftop, and did a lot of talking.

She never told me what they talked about. And though they parted on good terms, they never went out again.

George left town the week after. We had a little shindig for him that started at Turtlewood and went down Madison to a cozy bar. The man in the Friends with the creased face played a little guitar. We sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” and got pretty drunk. Someone put George’s namesake’s album _All Things Must Pass_ playing on their phone, and he nodded approvingly. He promised to send a postcard every now and then.  
  


* * *

  
The next fall, Kellydell took Seaswell to Ireland. They planned their trip for months in advance; it was a popular chatting topic for the Friends before meetings. Ireland was clearly Earth’s equivalent of Kellydell’s homeland of Greenisle: what would have been its inspiration if it had ever actually appeared in the show. It’s funny how things like that exist. Seaswell became excited to see what the ‘real’ version of Greenisle was like, and Kellydell caught his passion. They spent two weeks in the nation she called her ‘homeland by proxy.’ Most of the people they met thought they were adorable, and some cajoled them to stay, visas be damned. They saw the National Gallery and the Book of Kells in Dublin and Shop Street in Galway. Seaswell flew his wife over remote tiny islands and up the Cliffs of Moher. They went all the way to Blarney so Seaswell could kiss the Blarney Stone, but at the last minute, he decided he didn’t want to, stirring up a drama that he and Kellydell laughed over later. Kissing that stone makes a person eloquent, they say, and he realized he didn’t want to change.

That winter, I finally left the garden store. The Friends of Equestria had incorporated as a non-profit, and they hired me on for the days I wasn’t at Turtlewood. Working for them involved a lot of writing, facilitating communication and attending (or sometimes running) meetings. There were still interviews now and then, plus the occasional rally or protest on behalf of advancing interworld relations. Laurie was proud of me. Bit by bit, the window of what was normal for me changed.

That spring I got a scroll in the mail, stuffed in a packing tube and tied with a slender ribbon. I unrolled it and read the heading: “On the Dis-Entanglement of Pseudo-Requited Love: An Inter-Species Case Study. By Pink Coil, Royal Mage Emeritus to the Crystal Empire, in consultation with Mage Counsel Sunburst. Dedicated fondly to Princess Cadance, long may she improve.”

It was the monograph about us Pink Coil had promised! The thing was written in dense, specialized language and turned out to be twenty pages long when we got it typed up. He referred to Peach and me as ‘CE’ and ‘HH’, for ‘Capricious Etcher’ and ‘Hapless Human’, respectively. Even through the magical jargon, we could still recognize our story. “The Princess expressed great remorse and a desire to restore the initial relation between the relevant judgment matrices”—that was our favorite line. We had it framed on our wall. I never did figure out how a lock of my hair helped Pink Coil get the package properly addressed, but that’s magic for you.

In June of 2020, I met a girl called Mikah. She was a paralegal with a penchant for plaid shirts and competitive cycling. Like me, she was interested in ponies, despite never having watched _Friendship is Magic_ when it was on the air. She was a big fan of _Life in Equestria with Starlight Glimmer_ , though. (By that time, Twilight Sparkle was devoting more time to matters of state and Starlight had taken over as host.) I introduced her to the Friends of Equestria and we hit it off faster than a road rider jetting down a long straightaway. Within four months of dating, we were talking about kids, houses and marriage.

She liked Peach. That was important, of course, and she knew that. Peach and I were still living together, and Mikah was sympathetic to where it would leave Peach if I moved out. I remember a lunch we had together one weekend after a vigorous ride through Elizabeth’s North End. (The bicycle manufacturers were making pony models by then, so Peach had bought one, and I’d gotten my old Specialized back from my mom’s garage.) We’d found a greasy little place run by Portuguese folks selling American food, so we got soup and salad and slurped and crunched while Mikah grilled Peach on why she’d come here two and half years ago, and what she’d learned.

“Well, I came here to find out who I was and what my world was,” she said. The angst this topic used to give her was long gone. “I thought of Earth and its people as my creators, and I wanted to know what was in their heads when they made us. I knew it wasn’t like the normal creator/creation relationship, since we were a whole world in itself, with history and details they never thought of, but it still seemed like I could never understand myself fully unless I came to this place. I thought of it as the Motherland.”

“That’s cool,” said Mikah. “So did you wind up knowing yourself better?”

“Sure!” said Peach, flicking her tail. “It took a while and it wasn’t easy, but I worked it out eventually. I realized that it’s not so simple to ask ‘Why am I what I am?’ It’s just like when you ask why an animal does what it does. There’s the evolutionary explanation—like how an antelope pronks to show that it’s healthy and the mountain lion or whatever chasing it shouldn’t bother—and then there’s the internal explanation—the antelope’s own reason for jumping. Does it know the message it’s sending to the mountain lion, or does it pronk just ‘cause it feels nervous and that’s what it does when it’s nervous? We don’t know.” She took a bite of her potato soup. “Just like that, there’s two different explanations for why anything in FiMland happens. There’s the human explanation, which is about what the thing means to humans and why you might have put it in your children’s fantasy world. But then there’s the local explanation, which is just what we would’ve told ourselves if we never learned about you. Why are there unicorns? Because humans thought horses were cool but not cool enough, and they had to embellish. But _also_ because a long time ago, some earth pony went on some epic quest, got a horn, and transformed the nature of their species. There’s two reasons at least for everything.”

“Two at _least?_ ”

“Maybe more. Who knows? Maybe someday we’ll open a portal to some other world of weird-looking beings who _also_ say they invented ponies and Equestria. And they’ve got a 3-D holoshow that proves it, and even though their culture and society are totally different from Earth, their show is exactly identical to Friendship is Magic. If it can happen once, it can happen again, right?”

“Wicked,” said Mikah. “Gotta soak that in.”

“So once I realized that, I realized there might not be any end to the answers for a question like, “Why are we what we are?” We’re like this because of this reason, and that reason, and maybe a bunch more. And each answer you get adds to the whole shebang, but it’s never over. There’s no end to explanation. There’s just an end to what you can understand in terms of the world you know.”

“So do you have a handle on that yet?” I interjected. “Why did human beings conceive of ponies?”

She sipped her orange soda. “I think you know.”

“Maybe I could guess, but I want to hear what you think.”

“Me too,” added Mikah.

Peach’s forehooves plopped onto the table. “Because you’re afraid of how violent you are. That’s basically why, isn’t it? You’re obsessed with your own violence, your weapons, your history full of wars. You feel like you ought to be more peaceful. So you invent magical creatures, fantasy creatures that _are_ more peaceful. Ponies. Breezies. Classic unicorns. Dryads and nymphs and earth spirits and benevolent aliens! All just to underscore how violent and evil humans are, compared to all these other creatures that put you to shame.” She banged the table. “But who says you should be more peaceful? Who says the way humans are isn’t the way thinking beings are just going to normally be, just because they’re thinking beings? I’ll tell you who says that. _You do._ You say that, because all those peaceful creatures? You invented them. And the fact you invented them, and you compare yourselves to them? That shows you _do_ care about being more peaceful. And there’s no one, not even us, who can say for sure that you’re behind the curve.”

“Why not even you?” asked Mikah. “When’s the last time ponies had a real war?”

“We don’t do wars,” said Peach. “Not the way you do. So yeah, we’ve got that over you. But maybe we’re a fluke! Maybe everything about our history and personality is just really, really lucky that way. _We_ don’t know what’s normal. We’ve only got two worlds to look at.”

“But when you don’t know much,” Mikah protested, “you use the information you’ve got. And of our two worlds, yours is more peaceful than ours by far! Shouldn’t we be concerned about that?”

“Nah,” said Peach. “Of _course_ it was gonna be that way. You invented us for your kids, to teach them good values. Of course you were gonna invent a race of people who don’t wage war. So in terms of figuring out how common war is? The fact we ponies don’t do it doesn’t mean a thing.”

“But we _didn’t_ invent you,” pressed Mikah.

Peach shrugged with a coy smile. “Might as well have.”  
  


* * *

  
I married Mikah in September of 2021. George Harrison showed up at our wedding, not uninvited but unexpected. He regaled us and the other guests with strange stories of a race of bee people called the Bumbles, then left in the night. We never saw him again, but we still get postcards from him now and then, so there’s still time. (Peach never told me his original name—he made her swear not to tell—but maybe he’ll tell me himself someday.) Grig was there too, cashing in vacation time. He roasted weiners and marshmallows for us outside our reception hall. Uncle Clyde and Red Rover were our honored guests. Barrett was my best man, and Mikah’s best friend was her maid of honor, but we wanted a spot in the wedding party for Peach, so we decided to make up a position for her: Fruit Bearer. She walked down the aisle magically passing out apricots and strawberries and peaches to everyone, wearing a Carmen Miranda hat. Meanwhile, her best friend Clear Airways divebombed the crowd with party streamers. At the reception, Peach regaled everyone for hours with stories about me, even while Mikah and I danced for the crowd.

Laurie and Jack never got married, but they seem to like it that way. They’re still together in Elizabeth. Seaswell and Kellydell are still together, too. They have their differences and doubts, but it seems like they found a way to stay in love without magical booster shots. Mikah gave birth last March to our second beautiful child, Daniel George Pfeffer. Our daughter Apricot—Abby for short—will be three this fall.

Peach is still looking for love. Despite having plenty of relationships here on Earth, none of them have worked out for her yet. She’s had a good cry about it once or twice, but for the most part, she’s still optimistic. Sometimes Second Sight jokes that the two of them are both married to their work, but Peach says she wouldn’t mind having someone besides a blog to be married to. But Second Sight says (with a certain authority) that Peach is less upset about still being single than she pretends to be. Her blog is huge, and Brookhaven is starting to make noise about applications for what they call ‘amiable positronium’, but which most people call “ponyponium’. Particles and antiparticles, orbiting without mutual annihilation—if they can do it, why can’t we? Peach was part of the team of unicorns whose magic and dedication made it possible.

And of course, last winter they finally wrapped up negotiations and opened Equestria to human visitors. There’ve been some incidents so far, and a pathway to naturalization is still in the future, but things are looking bright, thanks in no small measure to the Friends of Equestria. Just before Daniel was born, I was able to go back to Witherton and get reacquianted with Peach’s folks. This time, Aunt Iggles invited me to read an Earth poem, so I went with Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan.” It wasn’t until I was tipsy at the end of the night that I sang them the _Mr. Ed_ theme song.

Peach still dreams of someday discovering another world where Earth is a place drawn from their imaginations, and humanity are considered magical creatures. And maybe another world beyond that, and another beyond that—an endless chain of fiction makers whose works of fiction coincide with levels of reality. I hope for her sake that it eventually happens, but as for me? If I could move my family to Equestria someday, that would be paradise enough.

Then again, if just anyone could relocate to Equestria, the Garden State would be half empty within a year. So I’ll content myself with the fact that Equestria and Earth are growing closer all the time.

Oh, and last month, I got to meet Princess Luna! She came to one of our meetings and bought a donut. Not even kidding.

It’s true, pony should pony pony. But that doesn’t mean the rest of us shouldn’t too, from time to time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Here we are at the end, at long last! This chapter is being posted one day before the finale of Season 6, which means I'm just under the wire for the deadline I implicitly gave myself when I began this story thirty-two months ago. Tomorrow, "The Pony Who Lived Upstairs" goes from being speculative future fiction to alternate history, since it's unlikely either the Glen Troll or the God-Tremor will make an appearance in the season finale. I wanted to finish the story before that transition happened.
> 
> I never expected this story would take so long to write, or that it would go in the directions it did, or that there would be so many chapters, or that the entire work would be 180,000 words--the length of a moderately thick novel. To my surprise, this is the longest single work I've ever written. But I like what it ended it up being. I didn't know how it would all end until I got right up to the ending, but I had a growing sense of how things might turn out that got more solid chapter by chapter.
> 
> I'd like to hear what you think of the final chapter and of the whole story! But if you'd like a final question to discuss, here it is: If another world were magically discovered in which humans were fictional creatures, one of whose stories (a TV show or the like) were coincidentally identical to portions of our reality... what would such a world be like?
> 
> By the way, there are actually various kinds of women’s ties, but Ron isn’t aware of that. :ajsmug:
> 
> If you're wondering why it took so long for me to write this final chapter, it's because just as I got set to wrap things up, I was bitten by a writer's bug for another fandom--last year's hit indie computer RPG Undertale. I fell in love with this game some time ago and wrote a playful little scene about one of its endings... and in late August, the fever suddenly hit me to write scenes to come before and after it, and then to extend it into a novel-length piece, and before I knew it I had twenty-four chapters of that written. There's a lot of overlap between pony fandom and Undertale fandom, so if you think you might like a retro-style "best parts" RPG that sends up its own genre while simultaneously telling a deep and touching story, I urge you to try it. And if you're already familiar with Undertale and you like my pony stories, I urge you to check out my Undertale story on fanfiction dot net. It's called "Alphys and the Queen" and I'm posting one chapter a week. Reviews there don't have to be actual reviews--I just want comments to see how people like it!
> 
> I don't think I have any more pony stories in me, though I have a few notes and ideas left over which I'll probably share in blog posts. At one point, I was thinking of writing a story about a royal psychiatrist for Celestia and Luna, whose ancestors treated their ancestors... but the urge is no longer there. I wrote half a novel for NaNoWriMo 2011 about a meerkat who visits Equestria and falls in love--I doubt I'll ever finish it, but maybe I'll share it here. I'm no longer playing ponies online, which I did happily for over four years. I'm still watching the show, but my interest in My Little Pony has finally faded. Once I'm done with the story I mentioned above, it'll be time for me to return to more 'serious' works of fantasy.
> 
> So that's "The Pony Who Lived Upstairs"! Maybe she'll continue to live upstairs in some of your secret brain chambers. I know Peach will always have a place in mine.


End file.
